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