My last two major break ups have been immediately followed by my brother having a fit and collapsing on the other side of the country.
Prompt: “can you do a poem that makes sense and is equally as evocative forwards and backwards?”
“I wouldn’t necessarily mind people not knowing I’m gay, but I don’t like being thought of as straight — in the same way that I don’t mind people not knowing I’m a writer, but it would be awkward if they assumed I was an extreme skateboarder, because that’s so far removed from the reality of my life. But there is no blank slate where orientation is concerned; we are straight until proven otherwise. And if you’ve never seen how dramatically a conversation can be derailed by a casual admission of homosexuality, let me tell you, it gets awkward.”
peekaboo is essentially just making fun of babies for not understanding object permanence
imagine having phone sex with barbara windsor