in a room with a transient Haitian
With no obvious destination
that could be told
It was waiting in this station
in silent contemplation
with this person (who was Haitian)
that our story does unfold
As we sat there in the station
in our silent shared isolation
there came from the Haitian
the suddenest exclamation:
"I am of the vaguest inclination
that my every sensation
is naught but the figmentation
of a diseased imagination."
The silence of the station
was left in ruination
in the wake of the Haitian
and his surprised revelation.
I was sitting in the station
and surprised by this Haitian
(who had taken up habitation)
and his take on the situation
Silence returned to the station
and I thought about deliberation
But instead, without hesitation
expressed my condemnation:
"I must question your information
though I don't know you, Mr. Haitian
Your words bring me preturbation
in their declaration so bold.
"I would ask you for the cessation
of your intellectualization
Though I admire your aspiration
To existential gold.
"One cannot see the entirety of creation
through mere idle speculation
Mortal ken cannot, no matter education.
Forgive me if I scold."
A halted tension gripped the station
in our little room. I awaited negotiation
silent like a tomb, regarding the Haitian
who suddenly seemed old.