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