The Crossover

Mom tells Dad

that he has to sit

in the top row

of the bleachers

during the game.

You’re too confrontational, she says.

Filthy, don’t forget to

follow through

on your jump shot,

Dad tells me.

JB tells Mom,

We’re almost in high school,

so no hugs before the game, please.

Dad says, You boys

ought to treasure your mother’s love.

My mom was like gold to me.

Yeah, but your mom

didn’t come to ALL

of your games, JB says.

And she wasn’t the assistant school principal either,

I add.