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