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?