I will not be moving to Chattanooga at the end of December, I’ll be moving at the end of November. Before my class is officially done, before my going away party, before. I haven’t told my boss I’m leaving yet. The 2nd choice job called and made an offer and I accepted. I’m still hoping the 1st choice job will call, but that probably won’t happen. Someone who works for 1st Choice was in earlier (because it’s the same system, different location). She was wearing a black hippy-dippy fairy dress and a turquoise blazer. It looked much worse than it sounds. All I could think was, “She’s acceptable and I’m not?”
Marilyn Kallet has a poem where she compares making a transition to a photograph of Niagara Falls. She asks a question and feels that she is in the moment of the picture with the mighty water paralyzed. The answer brings it back to life and she’s drowned in the deluge. That’s where I am now. Wanting to stay in a single moment and never go forward. This isn’t what I planned on writing about at all. Fuck.
Tags: Chattanooga, moving, poetry
