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