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