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