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