TRIBUTE TO JANIS JOPLIN: FROM MY BOOK: DIRT SANDWICH, PRESS 53

Jammin’ with Janis Joplin

The first thing you think of is sex

when you hear her scorch the air

with “Honey, get it while you can.”

But we all know “It” was more than that.

She was only 27 when she checked out

at the Landmark Motel, the fourth of October,

1970, closed her eyes, snapped the heels

of her blue leather boots as if she were Dorothy

nearing the narrow yellow brick road.

She didn’t stick around to see if the Lord

would buy her a less meaningful Mercedes-Benz,

(the last song she sang), will waning,

the emerald city, a place still undefined.

Some say she didn’t die, but was buried alive

in music— while others spread her ashes

over the Pacific, tiny pieces of her, decibels

above the gentle arpeggios of the water—

wanting her, the ocean never deep enough.

Under a full moon, you can hear her

moaning at midnight in measured time…

No,no, no…no, no, no,no,no

Get it while you can—

We may not be here tomorrow.

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