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