The wheel creaks under frozen palms, Blue light bleeds through the windshield’s veins. Santa leans forward, face unreadable, As night rolls cold and endless. Headlights pierce a city long forgotten, A wasteland humming in electric tones. The hat slumps heavy, velvet red, Against the weight of some distant promise. He drives, though no one’s waiting, Just snow and shadow clinging close. Somewhere bells are ringing— But not for him, not tonight.