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