Aries: The old water tower that functions as a billboard now. When you sit on the grass underneath and look out, the town seems different. Smaller, older maybe.
Taurus: A wrong exit. It feels just like the town by your home but you’ve never seen this part before. You wonder why.
Gemini: The parking structure under the mall. You’ve never been here before. This is new territory. The arrows on the ground point you in nonsensical direction.
Cancer: A tiny town in the middle of nowhere proudly touting itself as “The Tire Iron Capital of the World”
Leo: A strip mall. All the signs are misspelled.
Virgo: A fake stucco recreation of the Parthenon. Its tacky but you feel a presence nonetheless.
Libra: Your room in the early morning. You sit up in bed scrolling through your phone. You know you are alone but you feel as if someone is resting their head against your collar bone.
Scorpio: A place that can only be accessed when it rains.
Ophiuchus: A thrift shop that feels like a sinkhole. The seconds get longer and longer the longer you stay inside.
Sagittarius: A hardware store filled with black cats. The old guy who owns the place takes care of them. They are quite helpful.
Capricorn: The burnt remnants of what used to be a national park. Green reaches through the soil even now.
Aquarius: A large brand phone store. Nobody is working the place. You have to talk to the workers on the display phones.
Pisces: The used book store that seems to move like a glacier up the road.
The Signs and Space:
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Motherfucking Cowboy Meowchow 