‘I’m not here! I’m not here!

Only the sky is here,

In three blends of herelessness

Next to the M1:

Blue, grey and in-between.

x

There is no me,’ says Amazon

As the lanes go roaring on.

‘Rivalling the sky now,

More publicity is poor publicity.

I’d rather be the sky instead.’

x

‘Where am I?’

Wonders the sky.

‘I seem to have been eaten

By a shed.’