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