letter to holden caulfield
Matt Robinson
o holden!
i read your diary again-
finished it today.
i underlined a lot
of it, the stuff (the reallyreal, not phony parts)
that seem more than newsprint and ink.
when you sit or smoke there, it’s like it’s here-
but i really can’t explain it.
i wonder where the ducks go, too i
wonder...
i (can only) hope to comfort you by writing this-
to let you know
some things do stay the same.
each time i talk with you
you hold fast (save for the
occasional typo in the odd edition).
or wait! is that what you were
getting
at?
even when we’re down in print-
permanent, (it seems),
there’s always something bound to
change.
maybe it’s not that i wish
we’d never met,
in fact i’ll bet
it’s
just i wish each time
could be the first.
(it sent a tingle down the spine...)
(continued)
the rye-runner in me
thanks you.
i hope that didn’t sound too phony.
and
for
now
i’ll say “see ya ’round,”
but
not “good-bye” and not
“good luck.”
