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“Witches” by James Tate 🇺🇸 (8 Dec 19438 Jul 2015)
There are all kinds of druids and witches living in the hills around here. They don’t hurt anybody as far as we know. But you can always spot them at the grocery store. First off, they drive these really broken down old pick-up trucks, often with hand-made wooden shelters over beds like they could live in there. And they’re covered in layers of shawls and scarves and bedecked with long gaudy earrings and necklaces and bracelets. And always the long, long hair. They buy huge amounts of supplies, twenty pounds of cheese, giant bags of granola, etc. They move quickly as if afraid of being burned at a stake. We all know who they are and like having them amongst us on their secret missions to decorate their inner Christmas trees with bedevilled human chickenbones.