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