What an odd little world they built, in the back-seat, third-seat of that run-it-down, all-around-town Chrysler Voyager, a wheeled palace of stale crumps and arcade tokens, of abandoned toys stuck in nooks and dog-eared picture books, the way the door would slide open with a swoosh, and the magic of the space, suddenly broken
inspired by Open Write (car poem) https://www.ethicalela.com/cars/