You say you are
hungry
You who don’t know
what hunger is
A shack with
no running water
dirt floors
tattered blankets for windows
a tiny brother
dying a little every day
with the nearest doctor
a hundred miles away
You say you know hunger
America is heaven
and if I don’t make it
I go back to shacks and chickens
That is hunger
and why I will do anything to
make it in baseball.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME