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