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