The dancing man

With the wildest, swishing abandon I've seen anybody dance with on the sidewalks of New York City he twirls by. Have you seen him? He wears a baseball cap, tilted at a saucy angle, earphones piping something good to his brain. What he listens to is a mystery. It's impossible to miss him as he careers down the sidewalk, weaving and turning, repeating some phrase as a mantra. Is he crazy? Or is he just freakishly uninhibited? The stares and giggles I see on the street make me wonder if my inner desire to join in isn't shared. How do the more conventional see the line between crazy and creative? I want to dance on that line and prove it is completely sane.