I was on the train the other day sitting down in front of a man.
Obviously homeless. Obviously crazy. This man spoke out loud.
He spoke to an invisible person in the seat right next to him.
I noticed something quite odd about the rhythm of his speech pattern.
He spoke in short, choppy sentences, with word choices out of the norm.
There was quite a long pause between each line. He’d speak briefly, then silence.
Each spoken line seemed odd. Why that choice of words? Finally, I got it.
Each line said had exactly seventeen syllables. Yes, I counted.
I listened to him the whole train ride, and counted each line one by one.
Seventeen syllables. Pause. Pause. Then seventeen syllables. Pause. Pause.
I don’t know if it was purposeful, but for half an hour it went on.
This man spoke in haiku to an invisible friend. I was enthralled.
I share ’cause it seemed the kind of thing you guys would appreciate.
So fascinated was I that I decided to challenge myself.
Could I write this post exactly seventeen syllables at a time?
I don’t know if that man was conscious of his efforts or just crazy.
It doesn’t matter. Perhaps it was just one of those times to live art.