Clooney or Mum




Clooney or Mum




Translated by Agnes Marton


 While downloading some seasons of ER

featuring the young George Clooney,

I was thinking how I could contact him,

and after binge-watching the whole show

I started to do a search. Idris Elba

is on Instagram, what if Clooney’s there too?

But all I could find was ten official fake profiles.

I gave up. The idea came to my mind:

I should write a poem to him. Another

poem of mine, ‘Noah,’ had been published

in an American lit mag. There was a roundtable

organized on young authors, this poem

was snarled at there for being too funny,

not fitting in my collection, the Family Guy

was brought up too, this is when I got fed up

with TV-series, and thought it would be

something, the top of my career if Clooney could

read my poems in English, and I could tell mum

prohibiting me from watching TV had been in vain,

I did everything she worried about even if I was

afraid, like during the never-ending process

of downloading, ten seasons, almost.

Since then, Clooney has grown quite old,

so has my mum. A disturbing thought:

does Clooney read poetry at all? Would it make 

sense to write to him, would he get it,

what if he prefers films? The poet, after all,

that’s me.


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