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