we were that hungry

I can see my mother
standing on the porch, glasses
on, waving
a spoon, calling us in.
yelling out, dinner's ready.
what are we having,
i'd yell out, as if it mattered,
to which she'd reply,
get in here and wash your hands.
all of you.
it's on the table.
we'd get one more kick of the ball
in, one more throw, or
rounding of the bases chalked
in the black top street.
but she only had to yell once
and we came.
we were that hungry.