Image for the poem Cap Gun Ammo

Cap Gun Ammo

We dug our toy rifles  
into the ground, twisting  
packing their barrels  
full with dirt and pebbles--  
it was a better spray  
and harder hit, than  
the caps.  
Gunpowder tape, got laid  
out across rocks  
and we took turns with the hammer  
pounding each dot--  
Our fingertips blackened  
and temporarily numb  
from the hits and flashes.  
Back to the rifles
for more dirt-filled blasts  
into each other's hair,  
filthy feet and faces, hot  
July sun.  
Kathy's shrill whistle  
called us for lunch, eat  
on the porch, gobbling  
Then back at our "war"....  
It's just how it was, in the '70's.  
Toy guns, fingers bleed,  
so did knees  
suck it up--  
the beauty of it all  
when we didn't come home  
until dark.
Written by MadameLavender
Author's Note
Written for Robert's "It Happened With a Hammer" comp

Image courtesy of Google
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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