Someone lives inside my skin.

I don’t know who he is.

But I wonder, when a thought begins,

Is it mine or his?

         Underneath the outside,

         Over time, there has grown,

                  within,

The sensation that I’m not alone.

Someone thinks inside my head,

This is no wild whim.

But I’m not that easily misled,

So I don’t follow him.

         Just the same the different

         Points of view can confuse

                  what’s said.

And at times, it’s hard to choose,

When someone thinks inside my head.

Spring 1984