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