The sun is setting and this back seat solo,
in my hand a toy, (the one I wanted?) from
exploring this jumble sale, 
a heaving hall full of stalls 
junk piled high, mountains of second
hand gubbins, treasure to a someone
like the plastic figure I protect.

Naught but a memory that pokes, 
opacity weaker than steam, 
I wade through, grasping for purchase
to recall the ignition,
why I am at such a venue,
my company nay family nor friend,
though I know them well,
and how did we arrive here?  
What such event
prior to my seating?

We pull away, car park emptying
our vehicles into the sea
of roads, just another molecule
containing us, my toy glints in
the summer light, and the memory
fizzles, the aftermath lost to ages.
Oh, my questions still linger
but I know not why this reflection
continues to prod.