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