The Monopoly Champ
At ten years old he was a Monopoly champ
But it wasn’t because he went to a game playing camp
It was because for months he was confided to his bed
With a game ending tumor inside of his head
The game board was always spread open on his lap
He found all the streets on an Atlantic City map
He wanted to see the Boardwalk, he said, in real life
And ride up and down it on a rented red bike
He would play the game with imaginary friends
Moving all of the pieces until the game ends
He could calculate mortgages in a matter of minutes
Playing by the rules without any limits
He memorized every card in the Chance deck
Knowing he had no chance of his own
He dreamt every night of taking a ride on the Reading
And having it deliver him home
The Monopoly game was packed up neatly
And placed in the coffin with him
Now he plays with the angels in heaven
And probably always will win
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