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