Amsterdam Base Camp 1974 Poem by Terry Collett

Amsterdam,1974,
base camp.

Dalya and Benny
were lying
in the tent smoking,
watching the smoke
hit the roof
of canvas and twirl
about their heads.

Did you know canvas
is the Dutch word
for cannabis?
She said.

No I didn't,
he said.

And when Thomas Jefferson
wrote the draft
of the Declaration of Independence
he wrote it
on hemp paper,
and hemp is basically cannabis,
she said,
eyeing him,
releasing a flow of smoke.

Isn't it illegal?
he said.

Not back then it wasn't,
she said,
in fact in 18th century America
in Virginia it was illegal
not to grow it.

You ever smoke it?
He said.

Tried it,
she said,
but not my thing.

It would soon be time
to return back to Blighty,
across the Channel
on the ferry.

Would he see her again
once they returned back?

He doubted it;
they lived in different
parts of the country;
lived different lives.

Music was in the air,
pushed out
into the base camp
from loud speakers,
some heavy rock stuff.

They lay there
watching the smoke rise,
loop and twirl and twist
before their eyes.