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