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