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