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