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