Sometimes the pillars of the temple stand apart

They rehearse the wedding details
In the middle of the arts fair.

Someone’s selling handmade pipes
While the groomsmen stand in line.

The wedding planner wrings and wrangles
And a jewelry-maker works a deal.

Many random people block the bride
Unsure of where and if they fit.

I’m watching all this with my poem.
A half-full beer within arm’s reach.

Random people weave around me.
No one’s sure if this is it.

Sometimes the pillars of the temple stand apart