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