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