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