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