Response to Diane Burn’s poem

How do you do?
         No, I am not a clone.
No, not a mutant.
         No, I’m just a dizygotic tw-uh, fraternal twin.
No, not identical.
         No, not Siamese.
No, not an alien.
         No, not a projection.
No, we are not the same person.
Oh?
         So that’s why you look like them?
Same great-aunt, huh?
         Two years apart, huh?
Dirty-blond hair?
         Let me guess. Cousins?
Oh, so you’ve had twins in the family?
         That many?
Oh, so you’ve had a twin friend?
         That close?
Oh, so you’ve had twin lovers?
         Yikes?
Yeah, it is not easy when you call us by the same names.
         It’s real decent of you to apologize.
No, we can’t read each other’s minds.
         No, I can’t try for you.
No, we don’t dress in the same clothes. I bought this at Macys, and she bought that at 
         JCREW.
         Thank you. I like your IPhone too.
I don’t know whether or not identical twins can read each other’s minds.
         No, I didn’t just think your last thought.
Yeah. Uh-huh. Telepathic.
         Uh-huh. Yeah. Telepathic. Uh-huh. Identical twins.
         Yeah. Uh’huh. Uh-huh. Telepathic.
         No, we don’t do the same things.
Yeah, we live in the same house.
         Some of us move into different houses.
That over there ain’t me.
         That’s my twin.