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