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