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