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Rated: E · Poetry · Friendship · #1936768
Wednesday night with friends.

Living in the country, we play Monopoly.
Just like Donald Trump, we buy property.
Behold the houses and hotels! They seem so apropos.
Each of us set to prevail but we sometimes go to jail.

On Wednesday night with friends we play Monopoly.
My wife prepares crumb cake, sometimes apple pie.
We haggle over tokens--racecar, thimble, top hat.
Friend Bill says he wants to be the howitzer
(more commonly known as cannon),
but he knows it is retired.

We lean out above the board to play Monopoly.
In front of us community chest, and
we sometime take a chance.
Bill’s Diane starts giggling
each time she passes go.

Ah the railroads, four of them!
And it just so happened, on the last we played,
Bill ended up with all of them, going on and on
with his nose atilt reflecting firelight.
The rest of us expressionless but inside seething,
the penalty we had to pay was cold hard cash
but that’s Monopoly.

I see Baltic and Park Place
and even Pennsylvania Avenue,
the two red die we toss about
that clatter on the real estate.

Living in the country, we play Monopoly,
pay rent and buy property,
incur taxes on luxuries, utilities
(even the Water Works is fair game),
watch money ebb and flow.
In the evening's recreation,
the aim is exclusive control
yet the parking is always free.

34 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
June 4, 2013

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1936768