poem about mom

Mom's friend Laura Bailey just sent this poem she wrote about Mom. I just read it aloud to Mom and asked her if I could post it. She responded, "Absolutely!"

JANET IS SO NEW YORK

Janet is so New York she keeps her compassion in her shoe just in case someone tries to rob her of it.

Janet’s hair is as shiny and black as the molding around rehearsal space doors.

Janet’s hello comes at your head like a huge sandwich in a lunch hour deli.

Janet’s soul is a charming efficiency with a galley kitchen and a Murphy bed, it is rent controlled and you cannot have it at any price.

Janet has shoes that are taxi cab yellow and stop suddenly for no reason.

Janet is so New York that her pin number is -- a-five- six- seven- eight.

At night, Janet snoozes on her window sill, wearing neon pajamas while a sax player lies in her bathtub playing her dreams out.

Janet knows why homeless people- who have nothing - have dogs.

Janet is so New York, her thoughts travel on foot and carry water bottles.

There are many living stories in Janet’s naked head.