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60 THE LAST MOJITO The Potato Oh, just picture him— Surely you must— Lonelier than lonely still; Sleeping in that rotten field With not as much as a friend To ease his vegetable plight, Such blight you’ve never known In your animal life. And yet, there he grows, Edible tuber that he is— Mighty member of the nightshade clan— So willing and utterly giving To offer himself to your table At even the slightest notice, Exacting no greater payment Than your tender hands upon his skin, A twinkle in your eyes For what he has endured, And the promising future He sacrifices to spend This exquisite moment with you. ...

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