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