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