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