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NATHALIE BUCKLAND In my town In my town old women carry drums, they stalk the footpath, wrists empowered by rhythm swelling to taloned hands. Sniffing the air for coffee they prowl with predatory eyes, while thugs and vandals shrink into doorways fleeing the grandmother glare. Poised to pounce they crouch inside a café and suss the street. In my town old women rule.
NATHALIE BUCKLAND
In my town
In my town old women carry drums, they stalk the footpath, wrists empowered by rhythm swelling to taloned hands. Sniffing the air for coffee they prowl with predatory eyes, while thugs and vandals shrink into doorways fleeing the grandmother glare. Poised to pounce they crouch inside a café and suss the street. In my town old women rule.