things get boring.
even vaginas get boring.

a thousand vaginas
might not get boring,
neither would a million.
i’d like a million vaginas.

i would eat and drink from them,
use them as bait,
sell, smoke and ponder them,
write sonnets for them
and live in them,
glorify,
sail and sauté them.

then they wouldn’t be
vaginas at all.
they would be more like a habitat,
or an ecosystem.

now that might be something
of interest.