pistols at dawn
plastic or aluminum
in any shape or form
the various guns
these little ones carry
are temporarily bulletless
[at least for the moment]
like a thumb & forefinger
positioned & poised
in some stylish manner
—they later find
themselves safely abed
curled into the fetal position
warmly dreaming of
pistols at dawn
april two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I remember when the thumb and forefinger were guns. Worrisome enough. But with your poem it occurred to me that the forefinger is now often joined/pressed with the middle finger. The imaginary guns have bigger barrels! Love your –closing line.
Many thanks for sharing your thoughts on this piece, Chris.