Many years ago (1985), at U of Chicago, some friends and I published a newspaper that made a bit of a ruckus at the time. One of the parody articles was an interview with a “gay poet” whose poems (”Space”, “Typelessness”, “Emptiness”, and “[Untitled]”) had no words.
During the “interview”, Spaniel revealed he wasn’t really gay. He aspired to be, he pretended to be, but it just wasn’t in the jeans.
Jeans? Good one.