He wanted a Monopoly on everything--
real estate, utilities, railroads, free parking,
my friends, my time, my check book, my energy.
How he Marvined up all my gardens while he
Balticked over every kind of my Mediterranean.
Of course, I could not pass Go,
and if I ever collected two hundred dollars
he whisked it off to his side of the board.
He didn't just want to win,
he wanted me bankrupt.
How I prayed the dice would imprison him!
How I yearned for Chance
to expose a bank error
not at all in his Boardwalk favor!
He was the iron. I was the little dog
falling into--always in--danger,
soft animal, furry, vulnerable,
at large near cold steel railroad tracks,
Reading bad news. I wanted to win,
I engaged all my Utilities,
but he was ruthless.
I'm not a spoiled sport but
when he started building hotels
I found my Community Chest,
shook the spell, got out of jail.
He was the banker, but
I had my own resources.
Paper money streaming behind me
I left as he made his last move. He was
leaned back, laughing like a melodrama's villain,
shaking the dice toward a Park Place victory,
so sure of himself that he didn't see me leave.


© by Sharon E. Svendsen.
Used with the author's permission.