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