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