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