Distances in distances

I had a boring dream
the night before we met. Seagulls
were stunt kites shaped like seagulls.
Meanwhile, outside the dream:

the roof hocked up slate,
a unhinged gate did its nut.
“I was late because I had to shift
a fallen branch…” and other ways

to initiate sex. “I could not sleep,” she said.
Most insomniacs are liars. Most minutes
are deceptively big from the inside,
particularly when seen from bed.

Who knew the coy intestine could stretch
to cordon off a homicide? Who expects
the accordion’s slatted grin? None
of which I mentioned at the café

in the library. Just You don’t look tired
and she said No, I do, I said You don’t,
you look great, and she said You don’t have
to say that and I said I didn’t just say it

and us both retreating inside our manners
until Mandelbrot brought the menus.
We collapsed our evening on itself.
Darkness came with the almonds.