I have her Porsche,
a cookie jar version
with its wild paint job,

and though, as a teen,
I heard her “Bobby McGee”
growl on the radio,

I didn’t resonate with
this Janis who spelled
her name like mine

until after she was gone.
But the car—eventually
I, too, had a vintage Porsche

(not nearly as fancy
as hers) in my keeping,
primer gray for years

until a kind friend painted
it. Mine needed restoration,
thanks to a departed husband,

who, had he lived, would not
have left without the car.
But our name, dear Janis—

how did our mothers decide
to drop the standard “-ice”
on the end for “-is”?

Perhaps they didn’t want
to raise icy daughters, hoped
that we’d grow into thoughtful,

friendly, smart girls, the kind
who grow into strong women,
knowing their own minds,

confident in their gifts
with a sense of just how
great their worth “-is.”

And we did. We are.

•••

In memory of Janis Lyn Joplin (Jan. 19, 1943–Oct. 4, 1970)
from Janis Linn Haag (1958– )