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Casanova's follower

A man of today

Can't possibly feel

A thousand fine arms

Stretched to embrace him

Without being pushed

By pranksters in white

Hiding his soul in a jar,

Injecting the virus of play

Into the boy

Deluded to be Casanova-

Who lived and died

As a dreamer,

Counting stars and women

He lit under a beautiful sky,

Clouds outrunning

His years and his glory,

Dripping mist over followers' mind.

Copyright © Katiusha Cuculescu, 2004