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