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