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