Where Were You Thom Gunn?

(This post is regarding a job application where I gave a 5 minute presentation in front of other job applicants and the employer.) (lol.)

"Ahem." Taps lectern. Peers about near sightedly.

I have noticed. As fool incarnate, one does not have rearview mirrors. One gets side view mirrors. Its part of the deal. The reason is obvious. Rearview mirrors are unnecessary and redundant. Side view mirrors are where you see those who already are in the act of passing you.

"Ahem."

Job shopping is weird. Particularly for someone whose best response is 6 edits away. And who automatically subverts all expectation, as homage to a youth spent amassing poetry books and attending poetry slams. To date my best non-answer is "Whether you like to be around a group of people fits within the spectrum of attending a basketball game or going to the bathroom." lol. I cringe to admit it, but yes I said that. lol. And, *sigh,* I didn't get the job. lol.

"Ahem." (Here I imaginarily pull my blog close and launch into a dreary recital of metals. Including several important facts about silver. lol. Would that I'd become momentarily discombobulated and lifted my left leg behind me, arms outstretched and skated forward in the hopeful to be fulfilled pose of a Christmas special. Or, like my 6 edits away from elegance in this post.)

"Ahem."

And in the side view mirror looms a fellow presenter's take on "Biogeography." Guy, if you ever stub an optical nerve upon this post, let it be known, you are my hero. I would like to know what your name is because you are that great. At that moment in time I was distracted by a rearview mirror that was not there. I should have risked a glance at the side view where you launched into another realm. Not often is one invited into an alternate universe in a 5 minute presentation for a job. You taught me something.... even if it can't pay the mortgage.

Thom Gunn, where were you.

"On motorcycles, up the road, they come:
Small, black, as flies hanging in heat, the Boy,
Until the distance throws them forth, their hum
Bulges to thunder held by calf and thigh.
In goggles, donned impersonality,
In gleaming jackets trophied with the dust,
They strap in doubt--by hiding it, robust--
And almost hear a meaning in their noise. "

The place I first encountered Thom Gunn's poetry was a used book store on Broadway in Chicago, a couple of blocks north of Diversey. Another couple of phrases in the same "On the Move" poem....

"Men manufacture both machine and soul,
And use what they imperfectly control
To dare a future from the taken routes."