I'm not sally

you don't even know
who I am,
she tells you in a slow
burn, a simmer
that could easily
burst into flames.
you don't know me.
not really.
what color are my
eyes, what's
my middle name.
half the time you call
me sally, and
I'm not even sally.
where did I go to
school?
when is my birthday?
this rattles you
and you say something
smart like what is
this, the Spanish
inquisition?
you are happy that
this conversation is
taking place over
the phone and not in
person. you are not
good with conflict
or confrontation.
you are basically
Switzerland in a human
body. you rarely
send a dish back,
even if it's cold,
or not what you ordered
you are amenable
to world's small
mistakes. so this line
of questioning bothers
you deeply, but
you'll get over it.
but first you try to guess
her eyes.
blue? bluish green?
how about brown with
specks of gold?
let's go with that.