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