The speaker believes they have been abducted and that aliens are now probing their thoughts. The signs are small and physical: headaches that never land in the same place, a faint sensation compared to a breeze moving just one blade of grass. What frightens them most is the doubt. They find themselves asking who they are and mistrusting their own memories, and they blame the aliens for it.
Their answer is oddly practical. They plan to line a swim cap with sheets of conductive material and add grounding wires for sleep, a homemade defense that sounds both careful and desperate. The tone is calm, almost matter-of-fact, which makes the fear underneath feel more real. The ending turns bleak and strangely beautiful: the speaker imagines their mind showing up to the aliens only as an absence, "black as any hole that used to be a sun." Whether the threat is real or not, the poem captures how isolating it feels to lose trust in your own mind.