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