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