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