My eyes won’t avert,

can’t avert,

from the eyes of you

that hooked me like bait in the deluge

of us all, a trench of hurt feelings

and tissue in motion.

Your current is rushing past mine,

and between

the passing faces,

we share a silent harmony

while onward-tracing the lines,

moving with feet and purpose.

Our fixed eyes only flounder

as we pass one another,

swept away in the surge.

And as we converge,

intersecting at the shoulder,

a profound urge swells in me

to say something.

But I don't.

There are plenty of fish in the sea.