By Molly Donohue
He sits on College Avenue
Outside of a bar next to a coffee shop
He is homeless
Except for this strip of cement
No one knows when he got here
Or what forced him to leave his roots
He is clearly not from this town
He just sits hunched over as if his spine is broken
Leaning on a parking meter for support
He looks thirsty
But no one gives him water
I wonder how he can survive
I can tell he was fruitful once
Now he just spoils in the sun
I have been keeping my eye on him
Hoping that good fortune will come
And he will get out of this town
Maybe go to the country
But still he sits there
his days are numbered
He will probably die come winter
No one will care
No one will notice
Not because he is homeless
But because he is a tomato plant
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