I think about what it might mean when I talk to myself
And about all of those basket people in the parks
And downtown
Busily chatting away in animated conversations all alone
Is it just that we are loquacious and garrulous primates?
Or is it something else
Empty stares returning the silence of forever
Emptiness and lonely souls keep in tune and fill the holes
Returning what only they can see
I hope it hasn’t happened to me
Expressing all possible human emotions to no one I can see
It gave me the creeps when I realized that I do it also
It’s not confusing that there is a “We / They” thing
But it’s embarrassing that I think that I want there to be
Is it horrible of me to be glad that I am not in their shoes?
I think I need them to be isolated so I can feel insulated
From them
And how far am I from needing to pour out my life like that
Blurting out unanswered questions and convictions all alone
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