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A Boy Named Frankie

He scared me      that mole     
in the middle of his forehead
a large puddle
I didn’t want to fall into   

He stared from across our kindergarten desks
     anytime
he turned away from the blackboard with its squeak of chalk
      I knew

anytime to get his lunch box
or line up for recess     he faced me
sick, dizzy

sour milk from our mid-morning snack
a fire hydrant of churn 
     I had to force down  
my throat bursting.  

His family ran Moshman’s 
an Italian bakery on Hunts Point Avenue
that sold black & white cookies
chocolate icing still warm and gooey
vanilla 
a smooth ice-skating rink      of tongue-taste
I never knew which one to bite first
     centered my mouth 
along each side of the divide 
and answered my     question

His name was Frankie
No one but me knew he had a third eye
He never said hello
I never said hello
He was fat and chubby like me
He had a fringe of brown bangs like me
He was my other half
I always knew I was magic