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