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