Junk

We left on a ship full of tea that day.
He hated the government, me those tiny England flags on cars.
One such vehicle passed us on our way to the harbour,
St Georges drumming in the wind. It scooted
off the wooden ramp into the water.
No film crews in sight. We decided on China,
ignoring a reading of the car as ill omen.
Boarding the junk, you said to me I hope
they're innocent of rhetoric in Shanghai.
I pray they boycott spin and sly wording
in their power corridoors.
I said, I doubt it.
They're as well practised as any British cabinet.
But I hold out hope
that they couldn't give a shit
about blasting "Three Lions" from their Transit.