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