Stranded on the central reservation, Soaked in oily spindrift, With the seagulls calling: Black waves crash Upon shifting sands And the sun beats down, Relentless. Along the strand, Shimmering in heat haze, An Angel approaches, Beckoning. Then she's gone: Just the motorway remaining; And in the depths of sky, No stars, No fire - Only the pissing river, And the missing moon