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