The mood on the terrace of Salinger’s secret address
is that of a cat alone on top a fence
or that of a nocturne played for no audience
One month ago I received an invitation in the mail, I RVSPed
A town car came for me
Was it necessary to earmuff and blindfold me?
So back to where I am
Alone with my thoughts and a cigarette in my hand
An hour’s passed
The other party guests should be arriving soon I would guess
(Except that they haven’t yet. Surely dozens of other invites were sent.
I was under the impression that this would be THE event of 1951)
My mouth feels like I ate a bucket of hot garbage
What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink in JD’s mansion of shadows?
The stupid chairs in the rooms are my only company
This place should be cramped with the cream of society.
Another half hour’s gone. Nobody here but me with my tuxedo on.
We’re all here at Salinger’s party
And by we I mean me, because if “we”, then where are they?
I know he loves his privacy but this seems like a joke to me
This lousy ghost town house
Limo loads of missing guests and one absentee host
I think it’s obvious that Salinger either lied or his guests missed the bus
Goddam you JD, I bought your sophomoric book
just so I could make lame smalltalk
That’s it, I’m outta here
And I’m stealing his silverware as a dumb souvenir
Beyond the house’s gates
I look for the town car that brought me here and I wait
for someone, anyone, to see that I’m ready to leave
and to drive me home
Now where could the driver be?
Probably hiding and laughing and watching me
I have no clue where I am
Now I have to walk back to where I live if I can