The Man Who Lives in the Parking Lot

A man lives in the parking lot.  Nobody knows how he first got there because the chain-link fence that surrounds the small lot was there first.  But he's there, inside his home of blue tarp.  A gate that would open the parking lot to cars exists,  if that is what the owner wanted.  He must not.  Does he even know somebody is living there?

Around my hometown, there are inner tent cities in the inner-city.  The people huddle in all manner of camping tents that are often surrounded by campfires, piles of trash, bicycles, grocery carts, and abandoned furniture.  But the parking lot near my home has only one occupant.  

I know someone is in there because I heard his voice once. Either he was talking on a phone or he had a visitor because he was ranting to someone about "the money."  But that is the only context I have for his conversation.  I did not stay to listen.  

If anybody minds that he lives in the parking lot, they have yet to make that known.  In fact, he may be granted the space by the owner of one of the stores that access the lot.  The building adjacent contains, two small restaurants, one wine shop, an optometrist, and an abandoned storefront.  

There are no cars parked in the parking lot.  Only the hump of a blue tarp in one corner. What holds it up cannot be determined.  It could be some sort of pole or two, a shopping cart, stacks of something, or tools like shovels and brooms.  Perhaps the occupant of the lot enters and exits through one of the rear doors from the businesses in front.  I've never seen anyone climb the chain-link fence.  Maybe the man in the parking lot stays under the tarp most of the time.  There is a "Porta Poddy" not too far away.  It's possible. 

The man who lives in the parking lot has found a solitary home.  Perhaps he is not lonely. He must be cold.  He is definitely a mystery.

More questions than facts exist about this situation.