Either Way, I'm Celebrating

They’re saying irony is dead.And for a few minutes I thoughtI might die too, a womanwho would buy a fifth of liquorand a pregnancy test just to seethe look on the clerk’s face.It’s always strange to be bornjust before the cusp of some new age,hanging onto nothing as if it wasLos Angeles. I remember glaringthrough the windshield of the familyPacer. Watching a thirty foot tall mancrack jokes on a screen. My parentsand I were laughing, but I didn’t getthe jokes, it was the way somethingso huge and astonishing could be so flat,could actually not exist at all.—Sommer Browning writes poems and draws comix in Brooklyn, New York. Her poems can or will soon be found at spork, The New York Quarterly, Forklift, Ohio, word for/word and elsewhere. Visit her comix at Asthma Chronicles and, if you're ever in Brooklyn, the poetry reading series she hosts at Pete's Candy Store.