An Ode to my Roommate's Armpits

Like two bushy mustaches grown upside down,
Or two furry caterpillars crawling on the ground,
Or hairy recepticles of sweat and dirt and grime,
Which give off a somewhat funky odor from time to time,

They stare at me from sleeveless shirts
And jump around from the force she exerts
And remind me of those nasty Parisian lasses
At whom grown men would never make passes

Soon they’ll grow to Tribble-like size
And self-reproduce in front of out eyes.
The mere sight of them turns me sick and green:
My roommate’s hairy armpits, the grossest things I’ve ever seen.