Ingrid seldom laughed;
it made her
protruding teeth
seem more so
than they were.
She spread her lips
tightly to smile
so that only
small gaps
at the sides
became visible.
A Knock-Knock joke,
I said.
She nodded,
waited.
Knock-Knock.
She looked at me
expectantly.
You have to say:
who's there?
I said.
O, I didn't know,
she said.
Knock-Knock.
Who's there?
Me.
She looked
at her scuffed shoes.
You need to say:
Who's me?
She looked up at me
and said,
O, right.
Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Me.
Who's me?
I don’t know
who you are,
but I'm Benny,
I said.
I watched as her lips
tried to stay stiff
and unmoving,
but her lips
disobeyed her,
and spread open
into a wide O,
and her slightly
protruding teeth
came into view.
I smiled mildly:
what else could
a nine year old boy
do?