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