Brief Moments of Shared Experiences

25 Oct



My baby blue vehicle from 1987 got me around Dallas

like a “Midnight Cruiser” admiring the skyline

escaping my troubles

by becoming the Talk Show Host and Wu-Tang Clan hype man.

Carrollton to Grapevine

Lewisville to Duncanville

Cedar Hill to Allen

Garland to Flower Mound

for this girl and that girl.

Eventually the car broke down and all I could do was walk away

My problems I could always drive away from

but now my car was one of them.




My older cousin had a beautiful smile

that he loved sharing with all the ladies in his life.

He was a smarmy but cool devil.

I once stabbed him in the hand with a pencil

because he wouldn’t stop teasing me.


When things were calm between us he’d come

over to play video games before heading to his girlfriend’s house down the street.


I only saw the hugs

never the drugs

and I’m still naïve enough to believe

that he didn’t deserve the fate

that awaited him outside the door to his home.


It left me more perplexed than sad

and still seems rather unfair.




Uncle Bobby died in his sleep

in some far away city

alone in a hotel room.


He was my favorite because he was fun

super laid back

and never gave me shit.


We both liked music, sports, and women

the basis of most of my adult friendships.

The last time we ever hung out was in Austin

eating seafood and doing shots

our last conversation about Lakers basketball.


I said I’d call him soon

but 2 years went by

and my mother phoned me with the unfortunate news.


He was relatively young

but he impressed upon me that

you can squeeze so much out of life

before the age of 44.

In fact I will feel

extremely lucky if I get another 12 myself.




I’d joked for quite some time

that the only thing my father

had given me worth keeping

was a big dick.


Perhaps he held a grudge

because I chose to live with

my mother when it seemed

perfectly normal to do so.


I’d grow to develop grudges

of my own for all the missed occasions and events

moments and conversations.


The tragic apathy I developed

only compares to the attitude

I exhibit towards strangers.

The difference being I have a better chance

to cultivate a relationship with most strangers.


Too late for us.

Too much time has passed

we don’t need each other

at this point in our lives.


He said many years ago

that I’d understand when I got his age

and had my own kids.


No sons of my own yet

but in a way I do get it.


I know what it is like to choose the wrong woman to love.

To have her say that the way she feels has changed.


I know the pain and anguish of rejection

to be denied access to parts

that were previously accessible.


I find it easier to sympathize with the old man.

He must have been terribly alone in his early 20’s.

Mother dead, his father gone and finding himself newly divorced.

It must have been horrible seeing his first born

call another man “daddy.”


Yes. I feel for you old man

as I should have felt for you then

as I feel for myself now.


I’m a little closer to understanding

how you felt and what you went through.

Though I wish to God I didn’t.


~Edward Austin Robertson


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