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