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