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