2/365: Monopoly Nostalgia Breakdown
Marathon Monopoly games that ran for hours,
when we hid extra cash under the blanket’s edge
to look poor in a bid for kinder opponents,
when we flourished our hands through the air with Popeye candy cigarettes
to deliver dramatic statements in terrible pan-European accents —
Oh, deez two ‘otels? Doze leetle tings? —
when we broke for lunch and trash-talked each others’ properties,
pretending Boardwalk and Park Place weren't all that.
Sometimes poetry wants to be about board game nostalgia,
which makes me uncomfortable.
Is this even part of the poem?
Who knows? Life is confusing.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.