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