THE PAUSE

you know that slight pause one takes, the one when two sets of eyes meet, independent of time or place, from rushing between gates at a terminal to being standstill on a busy intersection, two unaware strangers, apathetically predisposal to their circumstances, lost in thought, heads at a swivel, and out of nowhere comes that pause when they look into each other's eyes. and I wonder if both are simultaneously jolted away from their inner monologues, even if momentarily, and if both feel this colossal rush to look away, so as to hide away from their own self, ashamed at their transgression, aghast at the prospect of it all being misconstrued. What if all those pauses were to be collected? would we have an eternity of strangers just staring at each other, unable to ever go back to their inner rambling, an ocean of unconformity couplets, tangoing it out till infinity?