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