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