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