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