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