An American Sonnet of My Own

I haven’t watched a single basketball
game since you left me on that Tuesday too many
years ago because that was where we would
connect when the chasm between us yawned wider than
the Grand Canyon and neither of us was
willing to reach out to the other one and one
bad call would bridge the gap and the bad blood
would wash away like pollen in a thunderstorm
and everything would be good between us again
and I wouldn’t feel like I’d let you down
again like I had all those other times before
when you looked at me like you were ashamed
for anyone to know we were from same blood
that I sprang from your loins just to irk you.