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