Philosophical discussions
and sweet, crumbling cookies
we like them more than sand rations
less likely to slip through our fingers.
instead, they ricochet off our tongues
like spunky raindrops
trickling down the side of a plastic picnic table.

between bites of processed glittering diamonds
and compelling torrents of randomosity
rushing forth from our mouths
we find courage in relinquishing
our existentialism.

the courage to prop open that window
with the stained and peeling paint
that's been sitting undisturbed in our brains
for years and years
formerly glued to the windowsill.

in a single frantic, all-powerful
gesture, we throw the smudged glass
out of the line of fire,
into of the line of sight
sticking our heads out of the rounded rectangle
we didn't know wasn't solid.

we see the house with new eyes
we feel the light for the first time, too,
bracing our shoulders tentatively
but recklessly
in the window frame
in this very specific
window.
frame.
of.
time.