I walked in
all young and awkward and kindred spirit-less
with a name tag that read
in black marker with my bad penmanship
that only comes on your first day of a new place.

I walked in
and a nameless face greeted me
strange as he was
and asked if my name was Strawberry.
"It sure looks like it, doesn't it?"
I replied courteously.
And so they called me that.

I walked in
months later
to my first weekend with people like me.
and I liked it.
and they all called me Strawberry.

I walked in
on several different occasions
and I grew into my name
as a plant will grow to whatever container
you put it in.
and so people loved me.

I walked in
with an air of summer
an air of sweetness and bitterness and
****
but they still loved me
even more.

I don't know what I will do
when I walk in
my first day as an adult
and they ask me what my name is.
I could tell them "Strawberry,"
but they would laugh.

Adults do not understand
the sweetness and the bitterness
the ****
as only kindred spirits can.