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