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