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