the alternative
temperature was non-kelvin
it made zero degrees of sense
 and yet still
  he traded in caricatures
   stencils of reality
      tracing paper was a necessary evil
in his search for non-ambiguity
 he fostered a hard line
relying on F pencils
   when his supplier disappeared he
found hope in carpenters tools
  boxes of old nubs and stubs of flat yellow and grey pencils
in gas station automotive shops
 he studied the writings of the technicians
 "valve job needed"
   "customer asked for valvoline oil"
"fuel pump discarded 11-20-76"
   one day he decided to never eat spaghetti again
linguine was okay
he traded a Buffalo Bills coffee mug for a Lance Armstrong autographed photo
  he knew the practice of deceit needed reminding
 he threw darts at it until there was no longer a face
 
  

the clever mores
passed from the commune to the street
the bagwash
 serendipity
 eyes that memorize
  the imminent
    those that are seeking
seek
 
  

from where the endless rivers flow
that is
where the Tecate
brings forth
LIFE
we are the sad,
the worn out,
the inescapable,
mesmerized
by the
trespasses
of the sun
we breathe
in TECATE
we fornicate
in TECATE
we sleep
in TECATE
down by the
dwellings
storms take our homes
rivers of mud and piss
break our hearts
kill our children
we believe 
in TECATE
GOD OF BEER
wisdom is not sought
wisdom is a lie
we have seen the buried root of greed
the measures and pathways
to desecration
we know the sounds
we know the sound
WE KNOW TECATE 
in a heart
in our stomachs
in our souls
WE KNOW TECATE 

Walter Gutman

 by Alice Neel

The Bay Area Series  2015