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