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