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