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