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