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