the enso

"City Gobblers" by marlowe

the poem

It started as a lark, this move
into the city, hiding out
in a cloistered apartment complex
nestled on a grassy hillside,
down the winding driveway
from the street. Who knew
such seclusion would create
contentment? Routines
were plotted and new families
were made. You are always found
in the afternoon, at the beginning
of this asphalt path, foraging
for snails who lounged too long
on the white plastic lawn chairs
left outside by elderly neighbors.
Even the concavity of the parking lot
serves you, collecting
rainwater, offering another respite,
another chance to start over.