Snail Oil

When we breathe and the air comes out it does so quickly
Effortless and without motion not engaged in rampant movement
Eddies reflect in the dancing air in slivers of dust filled wonder
Floating motes of wisdom failing to evolve

And how does the omniscient snail draw itself from its shell so smooth
How does it unsqueeze and grow within it
How does it remember when to stop or force itself from its home?
Is this an evolutionary angle we forgot to explore?
Is it the solution to a skeleton, keep on making it like an ice caking marathon?

At first the stalagmites form, each drip deposits minerals
they cling to each other by accident

Then, later on when the lobster crawled
Out of the water to catch a morsel
It grew claws
And they had to be hard
To protect it a shell formed
It became too large to fit in it
It could not eat more

And then to walk without the support of water
We needed our shells for structure and grew skins for defence
Being food is not dishonorable but now we need cunning to protect
ourselves from predators and wrap our bodies up pretending we
preserve innocence, pretending flesh colours

And still I have a question
When did the snail oil become all these machines
these devices we have to wear that tell us where to walk
these motivators and circuits that direct us with advice
and sell us a grave site, a hard case to keep us after we have finished