"Do you two know each other? Well, then get to know each other."

I, with my skin around the neck, your hands on my blue dress-shirt.

Yes, it's no regular dress-shirt; it's really a v-neck t-shirt.

But, girl, you don't actually have hands either.

In the normal sense, that is, you do-- of course. But not around me, or my dress-shirt
or v-neck t-shirt.

They are on your arms, by your sides and, without love, you carry them through the desert each day.

And your feet ply my shoulders-- because I am sand beneath clouds.

I am sand beneath hate, under t-shirts and under blue dress-shirts which are actually v-neck t-shirts.

I am sand, with your hands on my surface and my skin around the neck.

And sand does not find itself in the desert-- it just is.

Two shards of the same stone, eternally separated, though resting on each other.