Capricorn

     I find it every weekday printed on the back page of amNewYork, the subway paper.

     Capricorn

     Relax, and let controversy pass you by. Focus on what’s really important: family, friends and love. Let go of a misconception. Keep an open mind.

     The gentle instructions come as both definitive verdicts and empty promises. They are printed plainly in black and white, but the cheap ink rubs off onto my thumbs. And while amNewYork may be Manhattan’s Highest Daily Circulation Newspaper, it’s also free.

     The business of manufacturing personality traits and daily fortunes out of planetary alignments is a field in which I am admittedly undereducated, but much like a Roth IRA, I don’t have to know exactly how it works to participate. Astrology is just another playground of authority figures, inviting risk and investment with few marshals on duty. I have come to embrace this ambiguous territory of cosmic storytelling as a prime arena for experimentation.

     In an attempt to cultivate a new social connection, I will commonly use an entirely contrived understanding of zodiac signs as my own artificial growth hormone. It is a delicate operation, but one I have come to refine over time. Gin and tonics, unsurprisingly, tend to encourage the situation.

     I take the floating lime as my cue.

     “What’s your sign?” I ask her, raising my chin slightly, brows furrowed.

     “Aquarius.”

     “Ah, that makes sense,” I nod, as if to affirm my suspicion.

     “What? What makes sense?”

     I lean forward to offer my conclusions. They are always the same.

     “You tend to put others first, neglecting your own needs to the point where you sometimes lose sight of yourself. You are wary to let people in, but once you do, you’re very loyal. You’re like a golden retriever. And sure, these skills have allowed you to survive up to this point, but they’re also the very things holding you back from your destiny.”

     Their growing eyes confirm that I have touched a nerve. They are seen.

     Is there a wrong way to make a friend?

     Another day, and I am back underground with amNewYork. Invariably, my eyes meander through the pages until they find their way back home. Capricorn. I read the words, honoring their insights and absorbing their essence. The doors open for my stop. I exit the train. And walking down the platform, I unceremoniously throw the issue in the garbage.