Oyster Boy Review 17  
  Fall 2003
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Poetry


Jaded

Steven Barza


Connivers uncork hustles.
Each hustle has a hook.

Each country has its castles.
Each castle has its crook.

The jealous foe still jostles.
The cop is on the take.

Graduates sport tassles.
Tasseled strippers shake.

Bureaucrats mean hassles.
The hypocrite's a snake.

The body-builder's muscles
are tensing at the wake.

The chiseller hoards his chisels.
The learning curve is fake.

We are asked to put on muzzles.
I'm going to make a break.

I'm going to write word-puzzles.
I'm going to double-speak.

My talent smokes and sizzles.
I bequeath it to the meek.

You and I retreat for nuzzles,
then ride up to the peak.

We're both beset by weasels.
We tremble and we quake.

If the spark between us fizzles,
we turn the other cheek.

Feeling dampens, drizzles,
The atmosphere's opaque.

The sudden leap still dazzles.
I launch it for your sake.