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