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