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