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