His own words silenced - cornered.
Torn apart with fear he grabbed his nearest weapon.
Brandishing his wife, he let her rip with her wit.
4 floors below, knee deep in lurid dancing, a brace of strutters bopped - stopped.
Caught in time, no rhythm just rhyme.
Paused to hear the cries from above.
The witty retorts, savage words cutting.
There, on the dance floor, fingers in their ears they danced themselves dizzy and banned all thoughts of men and wives and voices.
