went out for another long walk tonight, but didn't get started 'til late for a number of reasons. some of the late-night watering people were working their lawns, but the main dog-wallow park, a large thing about .6 miles around, or a k, bone dry, brown as brown could be even in january. the weather had told of a virga so we looked that up and found out that it's when a cloud lets go of some rain, and it falls, but it doesn't make it all the way to the ground because it evaporates too quickly on its way down. i never saw this, by the way, all i saw was a bunch of clouds, and even that was at night. but while it looked like rain, it obviously hadn't, except where these lawn-waterers were active.

now i continue to shake my head that they allow these people to pull up water from the aquifer for the pure purpose of making a lawn green, that wouldn't be green naturally, and doesn't have a chance at staying green, once the season gets going. but the water commissioner quit, and they can't find another one, and people are bucking like crazy just because they have to keep track of how much water they've taken, they don't feel it's anyone's bidness how much they took. you live in the country, you get a well, you take what you want, then you gotta get another well 'cause people are taking so much, you have to keep digging deeper.

now i'm at over 700 in e pluribus, and it's filling out in what i considered its weak points, places where states just don't have enough. i wasn't in every state in every season, and some, like south carolina, i was only in once, at night, and didn't see much of it. so, you come right down to it, i have to research to evenly distribute, and, i have to conjure up some things that weren't true, in a grand sense. no matter, i'm writing like crazy. i carry colored paper around folded up into tiny squares. the other day i came home looking for my poetry, and couldn't find it. i had four rhode islands, an iowa, and an arkansas on there. i checked every pair of pants, and checked shirts too. i checked my desk, and the living room. i got the sense this poetry would get laundered so i checked everything in the basket.

finally i went to work and checked my desk, but it wasn't there either. it did finally come through the laundry, much cleaner, in little pieces caught in the lint trap. but the heck of it is, i remembered every one of those poems and recreated them before that happened. it was interesting. each was a kind of puzzle that i'd worked a while on, so, when it got right down to it, the tracks were fresh. i have a geographic memory. the main part was where they were stored. my poetry in general is organized this way. it's nice to have a place that's organized how i like to organize stuff. it's like my own garden, or my own wallet. it's got a lot of dead links though. it's like these people don't keep pictures up of "spring" very often, or "summer" or "winter" for that matter. but it's true, you have a little better luck with "summer;" don't know why.

the traffic slows down a bit on flint. the sirens had a busy night out there, but the cars have let up a little; it's almost one. the computer's almost dead too. maybe i ought to just let it go, sleep me a little of that texas night. somebody, somewhere, is probably missing the place.