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