Don't go looking for a story here, because the poem doesn't offer one. It works more like a game with sound. "Piars peals pairs" slips from a misspelling to a near-echo to a real word, and then "appear apple peels" bends those same sounds into something new. One word keeps turning into its neighbor, as if the poem is hearing language the way you hear a half-remembered song.
The images are scattered and a little cold: "solar electricity," "polystyrene," "a grey baton," props that stay "deadpan." Together they suggest a stage set, artificial and unemotional. The speaker never states a feeling, and the flat tone is part of the effect. The mood is playful but detached, a bit puzzling, like sifting through packing material and finding odd objects. The title, "Not This," seems to refuse any single meaning, nudging you to enjoy the sounds and shifts rather than hunt for an answer.