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Today I picked Uncle Al’s tomatoes
for the last time. Many were over ripe
rotten, had cracked or fallen. I was tired
but constant and making an effort to
exercise, bent holding my abdomen
in reaching into the vines to find them
ready and easily pulled from their stems
taking a lot of green ones putting them
at the bottom of the baskets. When in
New York I will give some to friends and keep
the rest for as long as I possibly
can because there is no better eating
than a tomato from a man who knows
how to plant it well and help it grow.

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