Awoke constantly stumbling over my own ideas and memories.  At once, internal combustion and suddenly the Yukon Territories in the spring.  Dense unforgiving mountains, glacial moraines.  I'm walking along the train tracks, high altitude sage brush steppe, surrounding low, low ranges silhouetted in the sun.  Careen in circles, light blue midnight glow the parking lot immersed, diesel idle brings me back to internal combustion.  Pressing out a gudgeon pin, seating bearings, the whole beast turned upside down its underbelly exposed, its intestines spilling out, yet clean.  Shiny clean.  Then again to the rafters of America, high above the ceiling below floating lazily down the inner passage like drifting down the Mississippi in the Cambrian, always squinting to see the pre-history oozing from above.  Forced into a period of stasis, trapped in the heartland I had to scrutinize years worth of stored images and events.  Why all this now?