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