The speaker looks back with a odd kind of homesickness, not for a place but for an earlier version of themselves. The title, "Reformed loner," suggests someone who has left solitude behind and joined the world of people, conversation and shared concerns. But the opening line admits a loss: "I miss myself / alone." Having "things to talk about" sounds like a gain, yet the poem treats it as a kind of clutter that ended a simpler state.
The final image is the most puzzling and the most interesting. "Making trouble with bells / in place of hands" could suggest that the speaker's gestures have become noisy, ringing out where hands once did something quieter and more direct. The poem doesn't spell this out, so it's open to interpretation. The mood is wistful and a little wry. There's no outright complaint, just a small, honest pang about what is traded away when we become sociable, and a sense that the speaker is half amused by their own change.