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