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