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