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