Little Aristocrats

What is your favorite food?

My voice crosses the mahogany table,

bouncing off the Cambridge blue walls.

“Sushi, and ice-lollies!” her voice rings.

A rubber frog with a whimsical smile secures her chopsticks,

helping her untried infant hands grasp

the slippery noodles from her dish.

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She raises her silk bunny, it forms a shadow on the wall.

I like bunnies, what’s your bunny’s name?

“It’s a rabbit silly” she states.

Beethoven’s No. 9 spins on the record player,

quiet enough for her delicate voice to be heard.

 

On the bamboo living room floor,

miniature properties are maintained.

The clatter of rolling die on the board.

The whisper of money being added to the bank.

He will pay three-hundred.

He eyes his financial opponent.

No, he will pay four-hundred.

 

His hands are huddled, sheltering

his bounty. 

Her kindergarten-age-brothers

dispute

going back on

an investment.

Beethoven’s No. 9 ends

Whirring, waiting to be

restarted.

One of them won’t have to endure

mourning the others passing.