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