I talk to myself.

It’s not a poetic or noble fact,

but a true fact nonetheless.

I talk to myself in stores- the only reason I loved wearing a mask.

I carry my conversations from the car into each store,

why wouldn’t I?

It can be problematic,

such as when I ask myself “ are the bell peppers ripe?”

I may receive a reply from a thoughtful shopper or store employee.

My favorite is when I’m in the woods, all alone.

I cuss, argue, and cry,

laugh, whisper, and explain,

with nary a care or consideration.

The reason I talk to myself is uncomplicated,

I’ve always talked to myself.

As a boy, I couldn’t help it.

As a man, it’s necessary.

Whenever I hear my thoughts loud and unhindered,

I understand them, and in turn, find ways through the murky parts of my soul.

This is the power of words, as Jesus said,

they will move mountains,

especially those lodged in my heart and mind.