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