The vestibule was solitary
me filling my solitude
for one more special time
of many another

in my homemade dress
(some may have been askance
even aghast at the white — not
us) a moment before you peeked
through the leather-covered doors
“time-to-go” sure any time
as now (no da dum da da
threnody for me) hand in hand
we glowed and passed among
family and friends we didn’t know
we had; loyal to our faith, two guys
with bruised faces no body thought
to invite sat down to our Chicken Express
catered food and one lauded himself 
Aaron Pryor’s sparring partner.