It was just two days before Christmas
When you caught my eyes
And gave me this weird smile
Before you stepped in front of
My oncoming train.
I screamed,
And I screamed,
And I screamed,
As I heard the impact
And saw your head briefly bounce
In front of me,
Before the train finally
Sucked you under,
Leaving only your butt
Sticking out.
The rest was a montage
Of passengers trying to comfort me while
Eager to exit the train,
While pausing to examine your still body,
Of yellow clad firefighters carrying
Blocks of lumber for cribbing,
Of feeling and hearing the creaks of the train
With each bit-by-bit rising
Off your crumpled and broken body,
Of surrealistically feeling like
Princess Diana,
Hiding her face from the paparazzi.
Even with all that, you were still alive.
Somebody found your brown wallet,
But I never learned your name.
It was two days before Christmas,
But I was not going to allow you to spoil it.
This was the choice you made when
You recruited me to serve as your
Involuntary psychopomp.
And it was on Christmas Day
That you got your wish
As you entered the other realm.
No, you did not ruin my Christmas.
I did not let you.
But you still sat at my table
As a silent guest.
I thought I saw your your ghost
Riding my train.
But it wasn’t you,
But some vagrant panhandler hustling dude
Who stole the luggage from
An out-of-town visitor
On the platform.
It wasn’t you.
You still ride my train, though,
And sometimes you let me
Know you’re there.
Sometimes I still see
Your weird smile
And the two giant steps you took.
Sometimes I still hear the impact.
Sometimes I still feel the train
Rise up with each creaking cribbing block.
I gave you what you wanted.
You now owe me one.
What will you give me?
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