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