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