When I Met Your Mother Poem by Damanio Grewalli

The other day I saw your mother,
Know for sure now,
You are real,
A real woman,
Made of flesh and bones.
Not a phantom,
Dreaming my reality.

I touched your mother,
Rather I hugged her,
As I would hug my mother,
Not with the same intensity,
Of course,
But with a foreign restraint.
For she was your mother.

Her bulged belly, caressed
My withdrawn stomach.
The slender touch,
Woke me from a dream.
That you too were a product,
Yes, a prroduct of consummation
Of a man and a woman.

Know I must be ashamed,
Thinking other than love and you.
For I pictured your mother,
In moaning ecstasy,
As your father thrust her,
And you too were an outcome,
An outcome of sex like me.

I would not have thought so,
Had I not met your mother.
But soon as the touch receeded,
I again passed into the dream.
You and I were not born,
But, just existed.
Withdrawn from living and dying.