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