Merry Christmas, Seneca Falls

That little girl was up here a few weeks ago, she says

With as much of the enthusiasm of the hourly ad hoc ambassador

For her small, unremarkable corner of the world as she can muster,

And she laughs, I mean she played that little girl–Zuzu, that’s the name–

In the movie. Poor thing moves pretty slow now, had to tromp around

With a cane and all. I smile, not much less weary myself,

(Not quite halfway from Toledo to Boston, miles to go before I sleep

And all that), having pulled off the Thruway in the hopes of finding

That the village supported something that would be open on Christmas Eve.

She chatters on (noting she pulled this shift as a favor to a younger counterpart,

Since her children were old enough to stay on their own,

Not to mention old enough to refrain from bouncing out of bed

Before sunrise on Christmas morning), saying that Capra visited here once,

And only once, but was somehow moved enough to center his tale here

(To be fair, the place is quaint enough, but no more so

Than any number of burghs just like it), and so they have tried

To make hay while the snow flies, as it were, the town’s main street

Decorated in the spitting image of the movie, although it seems different,

Even mildly unsettling, when the tableau is not in two dimensions

Nor black and white. The waitress and I, all but alone

In this small-town Upstate bar and grill,

Exchange pleasantries–More coffee, Hon? Visitin’ family out in Boston?

And I pay at the register (cash only here, and I make it a point

To tip very merrily, indeed), then walk the couple of blocks

To the municipal lot, the bridge that may have launched

A thousand angels clearly visible in the distance,

Passing by a large, gray-brick building

That may have been George Bailey’s mixed blessing

Which bears the logo of a large multi-national financial leviathan

Based in Hong Kong.


2 thoughts on “Merry Christmas, Seneca Falls

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