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