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