Waitng

Sitting
alone...
lights flashing,
nothing scuring about,
not
even...
a mouse.
everything silent
waiting...
watching.
eyes set
straight,
unblinking.
piosed like
a dancer,
or and
actress,
maybe
a rock and
roller
just
before
the curtian
rises.
sweat drips,
muscles taught
and ready to
spring.
the only sound
is
my hushed
breathing.
waiting and
waiting
for him to
arrive.
at last,
the battle,
to whom
would see,
Santa
first
had begun...