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