Nobody really likes Monopoly–
not even the winner.
The promise of lighthearted capitalist competition starts off seeming like it will be fun.
The players pick the pieces that will bring them luck in this game of chance.
They all start with the same amount of money and the same probability of owning it all.
All
because being satisfied with having enough lacks showmanship.

But the drama drags too long, and that’s why
nobody really likes Monopoly.
The banker gets bored with the endless trading, borrowing, and mortgaging.
After a while, the sad faces of the poor become exhausting to look at,
And the banker leaves the game an hour into his shift.
Insults turn personal as an underhanded player fairly buys New York
knowing that the other two orange properties belong to an upwardly mobile opponent.
Accusations of rampant greed fly as a housing shortage ensues.
The railroad owners side-eye the utility owners.
The boardwalker stalks her Park Place with heavy lids
knowing that with three hotels, not a soul would announce his visit.
Three hours in, players get hungry but don’t trust each other enough to leave and get a snack.
One-by-one the destitute escape the clutches of this “game” and walk towards sweet freedom,
leaving the successful players to fight among themselves.

It’s lonely at the top when playing Monopoly.
People lie and plot.
No one rejoices when you rejoice or weeps when you weep.
The illusion of riches wears off too soon after the win.
Winners learn that it was never about community; it was only ever about a chest that exists only in theory.
The winner is left surrounded with paper and plastic, but
no one to share it with and nothing of substance to show for it except
empty hotels, a toppled dog, and deeds that no one cares about anymore.
Winners have to pick up the wreckage in this game of chance.
This is one of the only game where winning necessities an apology tour, and that is why
nobody really likes Monopoly.