jam2

Cancer and Sagittarius

You were

hardened shell

weathered

ready to show a tough exterior to life.

I was

soft outside

easily damaged

unprepared to face life with such thin skin.

a hermit crab wanders about

defenseless

soft

searching for security

protection

a home.

it finds a shell,

a little too big,

lots of room to grow

change

to get comfortable.

ahh,

inside is warmth,

safety.

seasons change,

the crab grows

the shell aqueezes tight

both need more space.

The crab investigates the possibility of a new shell-

upon returning,

finds the shell occupied by another...

the fit is not as snug

or as warm

or as comfortable.

Jean A. Miller

c. 7/4/91

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

weak from life,

never pictured you

shadow-black

sleeping

like winter

but always so still

no moonlight.

I scream in my frantic dreams.

his smell is gone.

how mad those visions

leave me.

Jean A. Miller

c. 1/97

AIDS

slithering like the serpent

you are

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

undetected

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

so needing

so loving

so alone.

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

Quest

I gaze around the dance floor-

bodies gyrating

smoke swirling, colored lights spinning

people seeking

bumping

grinding

searching.

Tidal wave of torsos

odor of alcohol

cigarette smoke

(their burning tips candles on a sacrificial altar)

dance-sweating bodies

anonymous, still,

strangely inhibited in their ebb and flow.

Pulsing strobe lights

reveal the true nature of the dance-

phantoms moving

touching

caressing

haunted souls

yearning.

I make these observations

timidly.

I, too,

seek something

undefined.

I will not find it here.

These answers lie not in the music nor

the frenzy of the dance...

the questions are only allowed to surface when my tide is

low.

Jean A. Miller

c.6/23/91

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

wantonly

I will wrap them around

myself

a fur coat

smelling like Opium

and you

warm and cozy

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

Keepsakes

Purple wishflakes

painstakingly cut

Hefalump pins

symbolically given

Glow-in-the-dark moon

spectral in the dim room

little trinkets

cherished and precious

line my life

memories

heart

soul.

Such miiscule tributes to

monumental moments,

mapping out my past

like breadcrumbs on a

pathway.

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

Soul Revival

I hear the ocean

beckoning to my longing heart

I answer the call

without you by my side.

My mind recalls

other soul revivals such as

this...

the sound of your laughter

echoing across the sand

your touch on my shoulder

your hand holding mine

that look

"let's jump in!"

a glint in your eyes.

This trip is not the same.

c. Jean A. Miller 11/23/90