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