The Dahab 'Trip'

Good Morning!
    All that I can say about this following poem is that it really happened. I got the details first hand from those who experienced it. We never saw JJ again. So if you're out there JJ... this is for you! And remember... drugs are BAD!!!

The Dahab 'Trip'

They had only just
met.
As is the way
in places
like this.

They were in the Sinai,
in the desert.
In a wooden hut
with a thatched roof.
Thrown together,
solo travelers.
In sleeping bags
staring at the stars.

JJ was British,
a tourist in a
foreign land.
Monty,
a Canadian Jew
visiting his
girlfriend
in the holyland.

They were making
small talk.
Trying to find
familiar constellations
that seemed backwards
and upside down.

There was a knock
on their hut,
and a thick
German accent called out
"Are you game to party?"
Monty & JJ looked at each other.
They nodded and admitted the
newest stranger.
The strangest
stranger.

After brief introductions,
the German
whipped out his
schlong.
It was covered in
piercings.
While Monty & JJ
cupped their own
junk
in pierce-less relief,
the German pulled out
another curious item.

It appeared to be a piece
of paper.
When they looked more
closely,
they saw the face of
Gorbachev.
Four tabs of
LSD
coalesced together
to create the president's face.

Monty & JJ chose the
quadrant
with the birthmark.
They split one tab,
and their adventure began.

JJ had a Turkish coffee
while Monty
puked in the Red Sea.
They walked past
a man
talking to a donkey.
They witnessed a
mob
carrying a
hammerhead
shark.

They walked
and talked
like long lost
brothers,
and they laughed
and laughed
and laughed.

At the peak of a
shrilling
hysterical
crescendo
there fell a moment of
silence.
When both
tripping minds
paused to listen,
and catch their breath.
It was at that moment
that they heard it.
A sound
in the distance.
Voices?
Laughter?
Drums?
Barking?
Dogs?

Their hearts
quickened.
Wait.
Listen.
Dogs?
It began to
register.
JJ looked up at
the full
glowing moon,
then at Monty.
Definitely dogs!
Getting closer
RUN!

All they could see
was the open door
of their hut.
One lone candle
in the centre of the
room
guiding their way.

DOGS!
RUN!
And they did.
As fast as their
drug induced legs could
carry them.
RUN!
The door was getting closer.
So were the dogs.

Sand under their feet
RUN!
Monty in the doorway
beckoning.
'Come on JJ
they're right behind you
RUN!'
It was then
that JJ tripped
in the sand.
Watching it happen in
slow motion,
Monty ran out
to this veritable
stranger.
He scooped his
brother
out of the sand
and carried him into the safety
of their hut.

Just as the
hook met the eye
the door began to quake.
They stood there
like sand bags
holding back
a flood.
Stunned.
JJ staring at his saviour.

Then they
laughed.
So hard it hurt.
Was this really happening?
Was there really a
pack
of wild desert dogs
trying to eat them
alive?
Who knew.
They just laughed.
Maybe it was the
nerves,
relief,
or the acid.
But they laughed
until the sun came up.

Drugged,
sleepless,
and ever so slightly
shaken,
they slipped the
hook out of the eye,
and opened the door
to the now silent
compound.

Ruin.
Wreckage.
Anything accessible
was shredded to
bits.

Monty & JJ
looked in
horror,
realizing that
it really did
happen.
They almost died a
horrible death
via wild desert dogs.

The evidence was
all around them.
They looked at
each other.
Forever changed,
forever fused
by Gorbachev's
birthmark.

Sally