after John Masefield

Kinky dreams and custard creams from distant Tangier
sailing past the desperate from sunny Palestine
with a cargo of selfie-sticks,
rhino horn and popcorn,
cellphones and vapes of the latest design.

Stately Philip’s entourage heading home for Christmas
sparkling through the Tropics in his slick new yacht
with a cargo of glitterballs
and diamond vajazzles,
gold skin, cigars, and pinched pension pots.

Dodgy British coaster groaning with knick-knacks
spitting up the Channel in the mad May days
with a cache of Kardashians,
sex texts, six-packs,
cupcakes, kickbacks and sour Chardonnay.