Andy's Girlfriend Has Hairy Armpits

Andy’s Girlfriend Has Hairy Armpits

Andy’s girlfriend has hairy armpits

The pits of her arms are hairy

And she constantly wears orange

In the car you tell me

That you find it disgusting

What’s wrong with orange I say?

Not that you say, her armpits.

You say you are glad the pits

of my arms are not like

the pits of hers.

I say that you are oppressing me

That my armpits are beginning to feel

Like a fertile site for growth

That I always thought I’d be

With someone more radical.

We drive for an hour in silence.

What’s wrong? I say

You say nothing.

I don’t mean you don’t speak.

I mean Nothing is the word you say

Which means something big is wrong.

Come on I say.

You say, that I’m about to go away

For a month to the Edinburgh fringe

Where all the guys will love hairy armpits

It will be full of Andys and I won’t come back.

That’s why it’s called the fringe I say

It’s main aim is to cultivate tiny fringes

all over your body.

Silence.

Please come back you say.

Alright, I say, but I’m not taking my razor.

You say you’ve been thinking for an hour

About me saying how I’d always thought

I’d be with someone more radical

and you have decided it was a low blow.

I say it was a blow for you to casually

write off the potential of my armpits,

I say my stubble isn’t a lazy deviation

from my ideal, it’s god damn political.

You say you didn’t realise it was political.

I say well it is.

You say it just looks like pepper.

I say it’s a statement.

A tiny one.

A few milimeters of statement.

You say you always thought

you’d be with someone more radical.

by Anna Beecher.