Milimeter

Thursday

There’s a bullet in my bag
 And it tells me what to think
 In the middle of the night
 When I can’t sleep
 There’s a bullet in my bag
 Singing sweetly:
 “You traded 8 for 35 millimeter
 But the trigger slips,
 The shot goes wide
 By a millimeter.”
 
There’s a body in my bed
 Telling me to stand
 In the middle of the fire
 Where I can’t breathe
 There’s a body in my bed
 Sleeping softly.
 Then the day comes on
 And something’s off
 A millimeter.
 Sometimes close is not close enough:
 Millimeter.
 
When the numbers are run
 The measure’s off a millimeter.
 We run for miles to come up short
 By a millimeter.