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