DEAD ANTS!

Ants! Ants in the bathroom sink.
Ants cirrcling the drain.
Ants clinging to the toilet paper.
Ants scaling the heights of the toilet tank.
Ants storming the toilet seat. Ants!
Are they trying to get in my pants?
Dead ants! DeadantsDeadantsDeadants!
Now I am giggling like zee Inspector Clousou
and seeing pink panthers in my panth. Yeth.  
Peckish little meat ants from the Argentine.
I wondered why they were biting my thighs. 
Should I cover them in chocolate? Dance the tango?
One friend says sprinkle cinnamon on their trail, 
another friend says to use orange oil spray
so that the ants will lose their way.
Another suggests little ant motels with boric acid.
But now it smells like Christmas. 
They're pulling out all their little party hats,
inviting the neighbors. It's an ant rave.
So I nuked them with bleach.
Forlorn ants cut off from the mother trail, 
circle the stone hearts on my toilet tank lid. 
Mystery solved. I dumped old food down the loo, 
so the meat ants came marching in two by two.
 
added, rev. 2/18