Baton Rouge
Busted flat in Baton Rouge, begins
this number, once the needle’s settled in
and the guitar has strummed its chords. It is
a sad song after all, and Janis Joplin
for sure died young. But now, she’ll reminisce
about how Bobby thumbed a diesel down
before it rained, and she held Bobby’s hand
as they sang every song that driver knew.
About here, Janis lifts to the refrain,
and since she sang it, folks have sung along
in crowded bars, in bedrooms: Freedom’s just
another word for nothing left to lose.
She has a point. And when the things you love
are taken from you, there are memories
of riding in that diesel, of a time
when Bobby’s hand could rest in yours, when feeling
good was good enough. One day, sings Janis,
I let him slip away. So, what is left
to do but wish him well? She doesn’t say
how long it’s been, but does say she would trade
all her tomorrows for a single chance
to hold his body next to hers anew.
Look backward to your heart’s content: the bed
will still be empty. Now’s the time for her
to have no words. Bobby McGee, she sings,
La-la. The song is fading out – a short
sweet interlude. I’ve made love to a thousand
people, said Janis at a concert, and
I’m going home alone. As people do.
Me and Bobby McGee:
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