The burning car

Sleep comes with artificial assistance
In the drowsy in-between, I think
This Construct – what is it constructed out of?
As I tire from the day’s meanderings,
A citizen of the construct walks past a car shelled out and on fire
Quiet flames
In a neighbourhood of empty flats and tenements
I want to ask that citizen
If it’s the same car, every night
Or if it’s a different one each time