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