fat cap                  
                                          
                  
                                          
 in  gardens among stones along the river 
 grows  the mushroom. between  ferns  and 
 horsemint  grows the mushroom. along the 
 creek,  with  a  reddish  cap  and white 
 stem and  quirky gleam in its eyes grows 
              the mushroom.               
                                          
                                     
                                          
 i am  dreaming. a  package has  arrived. 
                                          
 through the  park i  go to  pick  it  up 
 from  a bitter lady. a  slot  in a wall, 
 lady  inside,  me  outside with the rest 
              of the world.               
                                          
                                     
                                          
 delivered is a  ny fat cap, a nozzle (or 
       "cap") for spray paint cans.       
                                          
 through young forest,  thin and  rubbery 
 whips shoot up  from the earth. kirskale 
    around my feet. concrete trenches,    
 abandoned gray  walls. i  shall try  the 
             new nozzle here.             
                                          
 the  paint  inside  comes out,  it comes 
 like a massage shower,  it  comes like a 
 thick and  slow beam. rich with  red and 
               gooey paint.               
                                          
 doesn't  hit anything.  it  keeps  going 
 and  never   reaches   the  walls.  it's 
 forever falling,  but  nothing  will  be 
                 stained.                 
                                          
                  
                                          
            i think to myself:            
        "new york fat cap" is weird