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