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