Poem #2,817 | Gun Oil

My trigger finger is stiff
& requires gun oil – that
handy tin with a narrow
funnel – it weeps sticky
onto surfaces as it runs
into barrelled grooves –
It was a regular thing in
our youth [along with a
tin of boot polish & spit
on our kitchen table] – I
need to lubricate clicks
as my fingers grip & arc
over things – I will wake
again with such pains &
get them loose by slow
pour of gun oil [recoils]