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