Here's a poem. Goodnight.

The way the ants gather in my bathroom intrigues me
Staring, they blend into the black and white grid of tiles
Hunting for food that isn’t there
Their roaming seems so aimless,
But from what I understand of their nature
There is no such thing as misdirection.
I’m surprised to see them so lost
Happy to see them
Instead
Raid.
Thinking of the smell at all makes my stomach turn
And returns childhood memories.
Insects determining a family income
Just. Like. That.
Why is it so, that roaches come, where ants don’t go?