You carry things at a right angle
Subtract thirty years
Add salt, breadcrumbs; add powdered sugar

I walked through the woods there, the fields running under the phone lines, dry but cold, staying inside the tree-line, inside the dream

The field side of things felt like early winter in the 1970s

Three deer, two waiting on sawhorses, were being butchered in the snow
by a couple wearing orange snowsuits

There was a child
There were statues in the woods with me

One had a hand covering his mouth

I’d parked near the one lane bridge

Hid my car keys up inside the right front wheel-well

I used to go on these walks all the time