I switched from the tablet
to my iPhone.
I waved at a friend
I’d just added.
He is sitting on a race-car,
in a royal blue suit.
I’m sending virtual kisses
while rearranging
my wardrobe,
a shift from winter to spring.
My present is so fast now
yet it’s constant and timeless.
I’m looking into the mirror,
putting make-up
on my distorted self,
and I’m not answering the phone,
because my body is a plane,
it may be in spin now,
and my soul is spinning
as it is ploughing its thunderous roads.
I’m losing myself in reality now.
Next to me, blonde boys,
almost looking the same.
Greased hair, old imitations.
They are talking about fashion
with freakish fake girls
with black hair.
Some girls get on,
waddling, with holes in their
fishnet stockings.
Scary tattoos on their white skin.
All together, chatting
loudly, terrible.
They kiss the blonde,
shaved or almost shaved
Dean imitators, who
are following them with
a weary, hungover gaze.
They get off.
The party is over.
They leave their scent behind
and some shiny magazines
on the seats.
No problem, maybe
someone will take them
at the terminus
to use them as blankets
in a dark corner
of a subway station
covering twisted,
distinctive smells.



Zsuzsanna Peremartoni

Zsuzsanna Peremartoni graduated in Miskolc and Budapest. From the age of 23 she lived in Darmstad, Germany, as a ceramic assistant. She has exhibited in Helsinki and Vienna. She published her first volume in 2016 with Black Eagle Publisher (Budapest). In 2018 she produced a Hungarian and English recording of a jazz poetry CD at Origó Studio. The Hungarian CD is available at the Rózsavölgyi Music Store, the Wave Record Store and at the Plate Maker. The English version of the CD is sold in two locations in Vancouver, Canada (Beatstreets Records, Neptoon Records).


Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Sunday, September 6, 2020 - 23:02