A Poem for Ingrid

“I think everybody’s out there, getting to know each other,”
you said
chewing on cheese and crackers like it’s that easy

“Okay,” I
sort of exhaled
sounding
high-pitched and nervous

You looked up for the first time and I wonder what you saw
cause I’d felt kind of pretty that morning in a striped T-shirt
but
shorts made my legs look like fins, or something else that doesn’t go on land
you swallowed the cheese, said
“You want me to introduce you?”

Thank you, Ingrid, for bothering to look
at me and my twisting hands wrought into knots and disorders
at the circle of girls “getting to know each other” outside
and seeing without commenting that hey
maybe this kid with twisted hands doesn’t “get to know” others that easy
Ingrid, you’re pretty like Vermont is pretty
but you don’t need anyone to tell you that
same way you don’t need anyone to introduce you, to anybody,
ever

Ingrid
people here aren’t pretty like Vermont and
there’s no one to introduce me to circles of girls;

actually,
seems like they all “got to know each other” already.