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