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