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