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