Desire Under the Arms
Author: Bill Roberts
– with sincere apologies to Eugene O’Neill
Quite impossible not to notice
when I go to water aerobics class
three times a week the untidy
condition of the underarms
of my fellow – I should say,
lady – aqua thrasherettes.
I’m usually the lone male
in the pool, ostracized to the deep
end I presume so I won’t notice
that the ladies haven’t shaved
their armpits this century,
but I’m not exactly blind yet.
Because most of them are larger
than me, I’m a bit reluctant
to inquire about this hirsuteness
they’ve adapted, perhaps on purpose -
a cult possibly or, like bralessness,
a current cause they’ve taken up.
Maybe it’s ecological, growing hair
instead of grass, or they figure
it’s sexy, as cave women undoubtedly
thought long ago. Come to think of it,
it is kind of, well, sexy in a way,
if hairy septuagenarians turn you on.
(Published online in the June 2009 issue of The Orange Room Review)
Note: Shortly after this poem was published and my social analysis was exposed, I was voted out of the pool by the offended Thrasherettes. I now work out regularly in the weight room at the gym with all the hairy, sweaty men, some of whom apparently prefer to bathe only once a month. I’m of a mind to suggest they try water aerobics, check out the Thrasherettes.
