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