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