Hi-C

A snail’s slithering trail
Clandestinely climbed the incline
Of the crushed juicebox,
A scenario one doesn’t often
Stop to watch.
And as he reached the crescendo
A look of disappointment camouflaged
his face.
It was a bizarre ruse
In his eyes.
The snail expected the juicebox
To be his Pangaea
But after he finagled his way
Up the colored cardboard
He stumbled upon the truth:
His effort was superfluous
He was just an asterisk
In an anthology.