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