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