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