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  Remembering Roby
Roby Starns.  Seaside, OR 1989
"Goodnight, Sweet Prince."
Mom, Duane, Roby, Debee, Shirlee and Patty at my college graduation. 1989
Thank goodness there were photo booths in Seaside.  We were there a lot during 1989-91.
The First Christmas

Apartment #304
a Christmas of beginnings
          I studied Psychology
          you stood in the kitchen stirring
          chicken noodle soup
          we ate by candlelight.
No TV, no phone
just Judy singing
"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".
We walked late at night,
Kong by our sides,
woolen coat collars snug around our necks.
We slaved all night
hanging ribbons of pasta
          from the few pieces of furniture you had,
watched "Jumpin' Jack Flash" at the
Broadway Theater for ninety-nine cents,
lines from "About Last Night" dancing in our heads.
No Christmas tree--
just a
          Christmas branch
                    strung with silver beads
                    sprigs of holly
                              we cut ourselves.
Who'd ever have dreamed
that simple
luxury-free season
would someday be
the one I remember

Jean A. Miller
  February 24, 1985 Beach Poem to Roby

do you remember
decapitating little green penguin
lollipops or
listening to the anguished
high-pitched screams
our multitudes of
bubble-gum flavored
gummi bears emitted?
the waves lapped
up the shore
cleansing it for the
next wave
that cold rainy morning
we woke up at
4 a.m.
it warmed up though
and a large yellow
UFO peeped out from
cloudy pillows
to shoot
ultra-violet rays
to pound our
unprotected heads.
we waltzed on the
wet sand
our feet cold in sodden
the blanket billowed
behind us
as we ran
willy-nilly along
deserted beaches at
6 a.m.
"Save A Prayer blared from
the boom box                                        
running low on batteries                    
because we listened to                    
"Dreamgirls" all the way there.                    
we didn't pay attention to                              
"Our Ultimate Beach Song"
as we romped toward
Haystack Rock.
we sang a rousing rendition
of "I'll Go Home With Bonnie Jean"
from our high school musical.
we spent all our money
and gorged on Haystack bread
before we went back
and sat in the shelter of driftwood
to watch the sun set.

--Jean A. Miller

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11/26/1966 - 1/8/96