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