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