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