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