by Annie Levihn
When I was in Boulder at the end of this May, beginning of June, it was both a joyful and sad situation, "seeing" Rob everywhere, and recalling all our times there, both awesome and challenging.
Rob and I are both writers and even back in the 2970 21st Street (the sign actually read "21th Street" at the Edgewood Dr. entrance for a very, very long time!) days, we would occasionally read our stuff to each other, or ask for a critique, Rob often returning something I wrote to me with the advice: "Just stick to Penthouse Forum, Annie L., you'll get rich!"
We also wrote letters to one another when I was back in Wisco for a few months after Casey and I broke up. He was a good friend.
Back in those same days, I wrote poetry (I have since I was super young and still do), and I would go to Penny Lane coffee shop every Monday night to read at the Open Mic (shoutout to Chris Wherry, who was the only teammate to ever come listen to me read!).
I haven't been to an open mic in years, but here's the poem I would read:
6.1.24
Boulder, CO
Sanitas Trail
When will they bring you home?
Pink petals on red dust
Climbing in golden hour abandon
My soles feel the earth
Your soul, all the souls I feel as I rise
I think they say 1,000 feet vertical in the first half mile,
Maybe I forget, maybe I remember incorrectly
But you are gone now, here in this place that so many remember you, and always you, as the anchor
The one we make a point to visit and thank
You brought us together
You made our memories stick and gather
Stack upon stack of laughter and active doing, always doing
Somewhere you are gone now
In my head, your head, I think of you and our time here,
Holding me court when I needed it
And your head your body, we lost you to Canada,
Then
They sent you to Washington
I see you, keeping seeing you
As I wander around town, a little rabbit,
So not you… but maybe, cute & mischievous
At the entrance I saw you — you and your twin,
Still as stones, whiteout alert tails and eyes bobbing
One facing north, one south, then
quickquickquick you
Follow each other, off into the hedge,
More mischief and curiosity and chase
How curious the world works when you stop to remember,
How you remember more deeply when you know that
They are gone and no more to carry the laughter,
The weight of things shift back to you
As more to carry, alone.