Tag Archives: Edward Austin Robertson

Shiva

1 Feb

Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva,

you are so drunk

and sloppy,

and oh so thick.

I’m so afraid of how easy this appears to be.

 

Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva

you just my type

with those juicy hamhocks

and big bright headlights

and proportionate  caboose.

The blemish on the side of your face

under your nose tells me

that you can be had

but at what price?

Nothing is free in the Bay Area

especially time.

 

Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva,

are you always this fun? or is the alcohol

that is making you laugh at my joke

about the guy who sitting in the seat next to you

not knowing the difference between creepy and romantic

because he was European.

 

Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva

I’m loose and you’re loose

and we’re being so obvious right now that

the other passengers on the train are smirking

as you write your number on a piece of paper

before we reach the Shattuck stop.

 

Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva

I hated myself for months

for accidentally throwing that piece of paper

on the way over to my friend’s place.

It was late, and I was drunk and it would take me

days to even remember the brief encounter we had that night.

Which now with clarity, I can see

that it might have been the best possible outcome

for such drunken encounters.

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

Trixie ( For Jennifer Reich)

1 Feb

Trixie and I immediately hit it off

at the karaoke bar that we met.

she was always down to take a drive around the city–

no matter how early or late it was in the morning.

 

Trixie was fearless.

She’d crash any party,

loved getting a taste,

appreciated good music, and 

worked for a video game company.

There was genuine love between us:

platonic, but with a tinge of sexual curiosity.

I think it was our laughter that kept getting in the way 

of us getting it on.

We just liked spending time together

And just wanted to see the other person happy. 

 

Had it been any other night

that we tried to hook up

Perhaps it would’ve been something more celebratory

rather than consolatory.

I’m glad that she stepped in and said she wasn’t ready

because it may have made for some sad balling 

steeped in confusion; full of false starts and delay of games.

 

We salvaged the weekend by driving up the coast

to Monterrey and Pebble Beach; listening to Ween

and stopping every so often

for whatever snack we had a hankering for.

Later that night,

she kissed me goodbye

at the San Jose Caltrans station

and I never saw her again.

 

I knew it wasn’t meant to be because

Trixie couldn’t cook eggs worth a damn.

But Trixie was a damn  good friend. 

I wish I still knew her.

 

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

The Three of Us

12 Jan

 

 

 

The evening was light and promising.

Full from dinner,

we drank and we laughed and felt good

from the wine.

 There was a chance to work our living situations out

with the hint of even a little strange for everyone down the road.

Our work lives forever changing;

things were beginning to feel fun finally.

We got high with our upstairs neighbor and talked about prospective bill sharing till it was time our guest to leave.

 We hugged and blew each other kisses in what should’ve been a perfect evening

but for me, things eventually got messy with both women.

No such thing as a clean break in real life is there?

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

 

Depression Cherry Tour: The Cain’s Ballroom Circa 2015

30 Dec

I was feeling pretty raw.

I had taken a lot of L’s in a short amount of time

And it had me in my feelings a little.

Something about their ethereal soundscape that ripped through me and my honest emotions

 

A combination of the dope, lighting and her voice

Made me want to hug myself during certain songs.

 

I can’t say it was the most fun concert I’d ever attended,

But it certainly was the most intimate. 

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

Newborn

23 Oct

I am relaxed.

Lying beside the soft sounds

of a suckling newborn

in our dimly lit bedroom.

Our humidifier mists away

the dry air

on an otherwise quiet morning.

This is the easy part.

 

~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

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