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