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