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