I try to remember one specifically, whether it was yellow or blue or brown,
the one was that took us to New York and then was never seen again?
Which one took us to Disney World, stopping every three hours for oil?
Which one had paneling to match our living room?
They’re all the same now. They blend and I can’t distinguish.
It doesn’t matter which had burn holes in the carpet
behind the backseat, where we would sleep,
or which rear window shattered and woke me in glass,
because no recollection could make one good car of the parts.