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