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