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