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