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