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