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