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