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