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