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