You hear ‘the whistle.’

You know the one all the kids in the neighborhood know.

All your friends join you looking in the direction it came from

Everyone waiting for the second whistle

All the children’s parents have a distinct blow

That’s why we always wait for the second

There it is the second one blows

We all look at each other to see who’s mother it was.

It didn’t take long for one of us to start running home.

After that first whistle the whole block starts to sound like harmonica’s playing out of tune.

As we scatter trying to make it home before the lights turn on everyone single one of us are waving and screaming at each other to meet up at the same time and the same spot tomorrow after school. As long as we know the whistle comes before the street lights as a warning from our mothers