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