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