Johnny K Roedel
Nov 1 · 4 min read

A poem about why I’m not good at astrology.

what’s my sign?

my birthdate suggest

that I’m a Capricorn;

named after the constellation

of Capricornus that is considered

an Earth sign

um, okay?

I’m sure that makes

sense to other people

but for me it’s all a bit confusing

I’m told that half of me is a goat

and the other half is fishy fish

I’m a sea goat?

wait, what?

Why couldn’t I be a falcon with shark teeth?

Or at least a whale who has the arms of a bear?

That would have been pretty badass.

I’m told that I’m

a sea goat who is ruled by Saturn

that is said to be practical,

ambitious and helpful

I don’t know what

in the hell any of that means

First of all, while I’m sure

Saturn is very lovely

and full of celestial wisdom

but

I don’t remember ever

giving Saturn the key to my

inner kingdom

hell, I don’t even know if

I have a copy of that key

for myself

I think that I likely

lost it in the couch

that I was living on in

my mom’s womb

that said

since I’m a half-goat

it’s also likely that

I don’t really have an

inner kingdom to begin

with

my experience with normal

land-based goats is that

they are kind of a “what you

see, is what you get” kind of

creature

there isn’t a whole lot of

“there” there in your

typical goat

as far as I can tell

a goat’s daily agenda

consists of a schedule

of the following:

eating

pooping

making weird sounds

and eventually wearing our their welcome

with people who once thought they

would love to be around one

actually, in regards to me,

that sounds about right

it sounds like I’m exactly who

my college guidance counselor thought

I’d end up

maybe I’m just a regular goat

maybe I’m a Capricorn

who never grew any fins

the thing is I don’t really

have the characteristics that

have been given to

sea goats

second of all,

I’m not that particularly helpful

I can’t help you move a piano

or change your flat tire

or sew you back together

or bless your baptismal waters

or listen without offering my opinion

or find you when you get lost

again,

I’m just a goat

if you have some

paper for me to chew

on I could probably

help you with that

for a while in between

my long naps

third of all,

I have zero ambition

I don’t want to be anything

or be anybody

I don’t want you to think I’m good

or bad

or important

or have a car with a thousand buttons

I just want to sit in a field

and maybe catch a sunset

while you scratch me behind my ears

If I were more ambitious

I would have been a better student

a better businessman

a better husband

a better father

a better writer

I’d be better at swimming

toward something meaningful

but I’m not

I’m just a goat

with the resume

you would expect

from any farm animal

with crocked teeth

and a neat little bell

that clangs every time

I walk to the fence and

dream of someday having

an ounce of wanderlust

fourth of all,

I’m not very practical

I don’t save anything for a rainy day

because there is nothing worse

than ruining a perfectly good

sunny day by worrying about

a rainy day that hasn’t come yet

that’s not what a typical goat does

we don’t think about the future

because we might be in a stew by then

I would never have made the arc

before the flood came

maybe that makes me a unicorn?

why couldn’t I have been born under the sign of

some sort of unicorn penguin hybrid

a penguincorn?

a rotund creature with a horn of magic and a belly full of fresh seafood — that would be perfect for me

instead I’m a sea goat who became stranded

on shore due to my lack of fins

the thing is I have never really considered Capricorn to be my astrological sign

my sign is more like

“Do Not Enter.

my sign is

“Under Renovation”

my sign is

“Beware! Haunted House!”

my sign is

“Fragile”

my sign is

“Watch Out For Falling Rocks.”

my sign is

“SOS”

my sign is

“Runaway Truck Ramp”

the more I think about it

the angrier I get

who do the constellations think they

are by telling me who I am?

why do the stars get a say in how

I see the world?

I’m not saying it’s all bullshit

because it might all be true

but I don’t want to live under

the expectations of ancient

starlight any more

I don’t want a pithy

astrological prediction

determine how much grace

I get to have

if I’m being honest

I think there is a real chance

that I’m going to die on this farm

without ever really knowing

what it is like to swim in the ocean

maybe someday

I’ll earn my gills

and I will fall into

the tide and become

the mystical creature

that the furry cosmos

thought I would be

when I was born

or maybe they will

get off of my tired

goat back and just

hand me another

raw carrot for me

to chew on while

I fix my gaze on a

row of blowing trees

that astound me

maybe someday

my sign will just be

a small note tied around

my neck that reads

“Good Boy.”

that would be just fine with me

so, maybe instead of being a Capricorn

I’m just a good boy

Johnny K Roedel

Written by

John Roedel writes about autism, depression and his fear of clowns. Probably in that exact order.