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