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