Don't call my name

don't call my name, alejandro...:D I'm sorry. I simply couldn't resist.
Now, to serious matters.

Pulse pattering against my pale knees
tucked up to my chin,
pouting at the window as fields and interstate signs
fly by, I try to
hold myself together.
Veiny tendrils on your hand
snake toward me as you
solemnly slide your fingers
against my dress, try to ease my
armed fortress to rest.

A Freudian slip, perhaps?
A lapse of the past?
Don't call me that.
Or I won't let you call me anything