ants

I cant find where these ants are coming from
I tore the living room apart
Moved all the couches
The coffee table
My guitars
My books
My stereo
Everything into the middle of the room
Swept
All the little ant bodies
I crushed with my slipper
Up into the dust pan
Turned on both my lamps and surveyed the room
Keen like a hawk.
No sign of them slipping through the cracks,
Where the wall meets the floor
No sign of them at all,
Looks like they retreated.
But the next night I walk in after the bar
And there they are
Like a big stain on the floor, all huddled around a cornel
Of popcorn
And so I stomp them out again
With my slipper
A soft but painful death I’m sure
And survey the room like before
But no signs of entry.
they're just...there.
And its not like they’re really hurting anything-
Just living off my food
And my rent
And my apathy
And it got me thinking
About
My last 3 ‘girlfriends’
and
How my
best friend
probably
ended
up
a
Dad
and how we all
must seem
like ants from time to time
under the floorboards, waiting