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