Deer Season

Today the woman

sitting near the cafe

window did a bouncy

thing with her eyebrows

and continued to look

at her plum-colored

notebook while her

invisible friend

sat cross-table

waiting for his

garden salad to arrive.

I can't afford to eat

there anymore,

but remember a few

times one friend

or another bought

me lunch. Nowadays

I brew tea at home

and walk as the snow

melts, carrying ripped

envelopes of nothing

in my coat pocket

and heading north

to where the car is parked

with deer hair lodged in its grille.