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