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