Petunia

The phone rings. I recognize the area code
but not the number so I decide
to answer.
"Hello?"
"Patsy?"
His voice is thick with that
unmistakable East Texas accent.
He sounds like a good old boy, a man brought
up on mustard sandwiches
and weekends at the creek.
"This is not Patsy. This is Petunia," I lie.
"Well. Might Patsy be around?"
"I don't know a Patsy. This is Petunia."
"Well apparently I was given the wrong number."
"No trouble. Bye."
I think of changing my name to Petunia.
I like the way it sounds. I like the unsettling
effect it has on strangers who call the wrong number.