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