When I first saw you in those light
plaid pants, tight fitting to your form,
my friends wanted to kick your ass. “Where
did this Bozo come from? Let’s waste
him,” they said. But that smell… Your smell…
Category: Poetry Readings
A Desperate Solace, Poetry by Ava Oparadike
A long drawn night of mystery
made worse by my drunken search for light
if only it would not all end in misery
but alas it is all for naught.
