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