I Kiss Frankie on the Mouth

the way my mom kisses my dad,
my brother kisses his girlfriend.

I taste Cheetos and Chicken & Stars,
lunch his mom served us for being
good boys around the house.

He doesn’t kiss me back,
but he moves his legs, his
right knee knocking into mine.

He pulls back, looks at me.
The TV set playing its way through
The Electric Company.

Why’d you do that? he asks.
’Cuz I wanted to, I say.
To see what it’s like.

You tasted like cheese, he says.
You, too, I say, as he taps
a sneaker on top of my foot.