the nightmare before Christmas

i was waiting in
the train station
(a twilight zone
between homes)

the heat was on
(a modern day hearth
protecting from foreign chill)

i was sitting on a bench
somewhere in the midst of
nodding off in the warmth and
checking my phone
(a call from family
here to pick me up)

when all of a sudden
a stranger shuffled in the door
my first image
a threadbare Santa
gaudily wrapped
(a discarded present
holiday irony)

without warning
he sat down on
the bench
next to me
began a sick soliloquy
to the tune of
O Holy Night
on a half busted radio.
i felt molestation in
his speech
(a discourse
on posterior hygiene)

there was no
diplomatic retreat
and so the
verbal violation
continued
(a few minutes that moved like
an Advent calendar)

the heat
in the station began
to sicken me; the air
of the place was
suddenly foul
and i kept waiting for familiarity
(an aunt to come
and take me home)

but time seemed to have
hit the brakes
and screeched to
a halt.