This is an improv of "A Miracle for Breakfast" by Elizabeth Bishop. What I wanted to try (again) was the sestina form...but also I liked the line "at six o'clock." So here we go:
At six o'clock I laid my head on the table,
not sure if I was hungry or just bored.
Some TV show with a talking sponge came on
and without looking, I changed the channel
to the news, where a man chopped
some cucumber in two and sang opera.
My mother always told me to never give up on
my thoughts. Because "thoughts become tables."
My mother was a carpenter, and never opera-ed.
She spoke of miracles, coffee, and being bored
but one day she changed her channel
in school and instead of chicken chopped,
She turned to the forest-wood chopped
piled high in the yard, garage, couch, on
a pile higher than the kitchen channels-
"I molded," lived around the wood. Tables
are flexible. Climbing up to the star of opera,
to a high reaching mountain never bored.
Something clicked, a remote for channels
switched something- some empty chopped,
turned high, out of a plateaued table,
to awake a speaker, a patron of opera,
person alive to the truth that was bored
back at six o'clock-nothing can be set on
the expectations of people, bored,
we own ourselves, our operas
contained only by the chopped.
Its only a matter of a clock for on
which we can be tabled,
or not- a person must never be channeled.
Unless, it's to channel the end.
The end, at six, where bored people
sit on couches watching operas chop tables.
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