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