An Ode to Vacuums and Vaginas

It purrs
so loud, going up and down…
cleaning that rug like it’s almost outta style.
Which it is.
Some people don’t have rugs
but when you need ’em, 
you gotta clean ’em.
The latter is self-cleaning, didn’t you know?

It stops sometimes
Skips and lurches
like a record player or an old hound.
And you gotta tap it.
“You okay down there, suga?”
It won’t answer, but what did you expect?
Shy creatures, these ones.

It’s stored in closeted sections of the house.
You see one out, you know where you are.
In the poorer area, 
in the understanding part of town.
But it’s an old friend, 
and it is here to stay.