Roby
need
ing
him
will
never
be
lazy
I
boil
scream
worship
trudge
sweat
shake
heave
stare
sit
but
cry
not.
-Jean A. Miller
c. 1995
Dive In
Ahh...
to feel the cool waves
reach up to kiss my fevered brow,
to feel the wind caress my hair.
To be young again,
a child
uninhibited by life
unafraid to dare,
take a chance...
Dive into the waves.
What wonderful days...
wishes came true,
(so I thought)
but who cared
anyway,
if they did not?
It was enough
to make the wish
to dream the dream
to see the promise of a new dawn.
It was enough
to feel the cool waves
to feel the wind.
Enough
just to dive in at all.
-Jean A. Miller
c. 7/28/89
Missing Roby
I,
weak from life,
never pictured you
shadow-black
but always so still
I scream in my frantic dreams.
his smell is gone.
how mad those visions
Jean A. Miller
c. 1/97
AIDS
slithering like the serpent
you wind into my life again.
you greedy greedy snake
you steal things
squeeze them tight
the life drips from your victims
s l o w l y .
no mercy.
quiet like a stealth bomber
you enter the combat zone
you set about destroying your enemies
they know nothing.
they never even feel the deadly blow.
Jean A. Miller
c. 6/23/93
Alone With the Ducks
"I used to come here
to cry,"
you said softly.
I could see in you,
a grown man,
the small boy
you once were,
crying in the park
where the ducks are.
Crying with the ducks
because they were the only ones
who listened to you.
"I've always been lonely,"
you said.
I could see in you,
a grown man,
the small boy
you once were
sitting alone in the park
where the ducks are
I was lonely, too,
but that was only
when I didn't have you.
Now,
neither of us
has to sit in the park
alone with the ducks.
Jean A. Miller
c. 3/15/86
Popsicle Memories
8/22/91
Summer-baked air
blasting, scorching
cannot burn you from
my thoughts.
Each popsicle
has a story of you
frozen inside.
Every smoldering day
I sweat
I burn for days like this
from my other life
when you gave more to me
or was I just more grateful
for even the tiniest morsels
you tossed to me?
I want to feast.
I want to gorge myself
on you
so much so
that I would never want to
partake
again.
Carefully, I take my memories out
like photographs
and sort through them.
Some are out of focus
blurry
some overexposed
off-balance
close-ups
distance shots...
I can't wait till winter
when I can take them all
out
I will wrap them around
myself
a fur coat
smelling like Opium
and you
touching me all over
not just the summertime graze.
Right now
it's too hot to hold them close...
I might get burned.
c. Jean A. Miller
The hands
silent but elegant
flowing and changing
fluidly
the language of sign.
c. Jean A. Miller 5/8/90
A sliver
luminescent and proud
floating and dancing
the moon.
c. Jean A. Miller 5/8/90
A scourge
deadly and sinister
spreading and killing
eagerly
the AIDS virus.
c. Jean A. Miller 5/8/90
Purple wishflakes
Hefalump pins
Glow-in-the-dark moon
little trinkets
cherished and precious
line my life
memories
heart
soul.
Such miiscule tributes to
Promises made
a silver mermaid clutching a moonstone
Promises broken
a leather bracelet, well-worn, discarded...
Each treasure priceless
irreplaceable
unrecognizable
to the untrained eye.
I am the guardian of these gems.
Sit down.
Get comfortable.
I'll weave a tale...
soon, you, too,
will see their value.
c. Jean A. Miller 11/4/90
Radiant color
blankets the ground brilliantly...
dawn of fall.
c. Jean A. Miller 5/14/90