They’ve changed the Zodiac.
You’re up for grabs.

Your destiny shifts a bit to the right.
You are just a little less the same.

You have to crab-walk through the star tide.
It’s making you see things a little differently.

It’s like finding out you were adopted.
It’s like being a ventriloquist’s dummy.

All the animals in the sky are crying.
Your houses miss you.

Still, you like the mirror well enough.
The night sky doesn’t show up there.

That’s the same old you there.
That’s no cookie.

This wobbly earth is so disconcerting.
Maybe if you sleep it’ll stop.

Maybe in the morning it will have stopped moving.
Maybe you’ll see a Zodiac discarded on your lawn.

Maybe you’ll pick it up and put it in the garage.
Hide it behind the packed up tent till summer.

Maybe you’ll forget about it till the next time you go camping.
You’ll find it and wonder what it is.

You’ll put it aside for when you get home.
When you’re lying under the stars, you won’t even think of it.