Tag Archives: Edward Austin Robertson

20 Years Later

15 Oct

Perhaps I would’ve pedaled harder if I knew what lay on the other side for me.

I could’ve used the extra motivation for biking in the blistering heat–back and forth, back and forth.

My biggest motivator was fear of failure.

I had to get up, get out, and get something.

I had to see the world, make love to exotic women and smoke fine grades of dope– the key to that I knew; was an education–

At each level existed a new threshold to cross and  new goals to achieve.

But nothing could prepare me for the fear I felt 20 years later,

leaving the hospital that day with a new life in our car.

It was as if the past 20 years had happened to someone else

because nothing mattered more than getting him home safe.

That was as far as I had thought things through.

I took a deep breath, hit my blinker, and took a turn out of the hospital parking lot;

back out into the world that existed beyond the freeway.

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

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Errands (For Charlesetta)

19 Sep

Early Saturday mornings with her were heavenly.

She’d take him to get donuts

where the Korean shopkeeper was always happy to see them.

Half a dozen glazed donuts.

(free) Donut holes

devoured before they reached the house.

The others went into the toaster oven to

warm into a moist sweet frost.

Yummy Saturday mornings were spent

crawling out of the station wagon

his tiny hand enclosed in hers;

walking into the farmer’s market.

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

 

originally published in “Brief Moments of Shared Experience” available at Barnesand Noble.com 

In Hindsight

10 Aug

The mature mindset would’ve been to enjoy the moment for what it was

and then let go of it forever.

Maybe we’d have stayed in touch, maybe we wouldn’t have.

The hormones were running high

and it’d been a while since I’d met someone who felt so lovely to be around.

As soon as I left her, however; some suppressed feelings of inadequacy and unhappiness

surfaced.

Things got messy at the first sign of turbulence.

But it was never about her.

 

Had we met today, I’m not sure there’d even be any sparks,

any mutual interest, or even things to converse about.

It was my first true femme fatale–

a woman whose thoughts impressed me as much as her body

(and boy what a nice body)—with a mind that was as manipulative as my own.

When it ended the way things did,  I was twice as angry with myself

as I was hurt by what she revealed herself to truly be.

So it was never about her.

 

 

I was a reckless man, thoughtless and cavalier,

and I got exactly what I deserved.

My animus–the best and worst of me—

reflected in a mirror.

Had I possessed any self awareness back then,

I could’ve recognized those patterns sooner—

the way I was treated in relation to the way I treated others;

beforehand and afterwards–

and realized much earlier, that it was never about her.

 

Edward Austin Robertson

 

 

 

Vancouver, B.C. circa 2019 (For Tiago)

4 Aug

Honeymoon, honey baby, honey baby moon,

familiar coastlines, new story lines

relive old days through new eyes.

 

Drifting for decades,

coast to coast,

cement to sand to soil.

 

One month a newlywed,

many times broken

to become whole again.

 

Daylight lasts long into nightfall.

Crows as big as chickens.

Air cleaner and clearer

than memory originally served him.

The return of a calm long forgotten.

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

 

Brief Moments of Shared Experience available for purchase

29 May

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/brief-moments-of-shared-experience-edward-austin-robertson/1131659439?ean=9781634987165

 

More where that came from within the year. Stay Tuned.

 

~Mick

Tourist

5 May

She kissed me at the peak of the guitar riff crescendo

near the tail end of OK Computer.

I couldn’t tell you if I thought it was romantic or not,

my head was still spinning for my college sweetheart–

couldn’t even slow my mind down enough

to just shut up and enjoy the moment.

I’d run off to the next available vixen

and we’d barely had the chance to get to know the other person

we were just staying out all night getting our buzz on

and mugging down as we saw fit.

Yorke singing in my ear to “slow down”

while I was on her couch trying to navigate her tongue with my own.

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

Travelogues (For my friend Michelle)

20 Apr

There was a real bittersweet period of my life

from 2009-2014

where I constantly overthought things

and analyzed them until my brain was exhausted.

 

I salvaged my sanity through music, painting, writing,

playing basketball, and traveling.

Occasionally I sprinkled in a lady or two,

partly for psychic  needs,

partly for hormonal curiosity,

partly for a good story,

and mostly for vanity.

But like most medications,

it was too easy to get addicted to them

and they were better in small doses.

 

Places were no longer places,

they became memories.

Women were no longer fantasies,

they were opportunities–and eventually became people.

I learned how plunge, binge,

and withdraw—riding those rails across the Rockies,

scribbling emotions into notebooks

and running through possibilities

in my mind.

 

The smells and sounds of each city

told me everything I needed to hear.

Old diners and dive bars

interested me more than clubs and fancy restaurants.

They called “bohemian,

drifter, gypsy, deadbeat, hipster.”

But I wanted to know things.

I needed to see things.

So I learned to indulge, purge, withdraw, and observe–

while ping-ponging across the map

towards my next lesson.

 

 

 

~Edward Austin Robertson