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