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