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