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