Red River

A cross between maroon and the red

of love and danger,

painting the line between one and

a stranger.

A strong, steady river of red

running through two poles, screaming apart.

A hopeful, desperate river of red

yelling its passions for neither to listen.

A deep, cavernous river of red

losing faith and spreading out,

so neither pole can cross.

They don't want to anyway, those two;

hating each other in fear of their fashions,

For they would see what they don't want to,

They could see who they are to the other

but they never just do.

But through the swarming river of red,

they can see in the other, the same colour.

and the experiences behind everyone;

the dense cloud of smoky exhaust that trails behind each of them,

pushing them towards where they now stand;

just one iota in a group of many

who between them all, share the land.