Situation beggin for remedy

He loved DJ’in Saturday night bops, could play their favorite tunes and she’d just have to f*ckin dance or else cause a scene by not cuz he knew and she knew she’d caused enough of em already, hell just like him copyin him copyin her copyin him, ya see what I’m sayin, don’t nobody know which looked first to copy what – how even when they were an item all those months back before the baby and the fights really began like nothin they’d ever thought up before or since the grandkids tried to tell em, Y’all too old to dang dance DJ, fool fussin like that, granny gramps git on, but them two?, they just pointed confused twirls of their fingers into their own wizened, aged ears, raised their hands, twitched their shoulders, and kept on dancing, DJ’ing, jerking their wheelchairs, loving their own way until their own silent, sudden end. When they were missed from the moment and our real ruckus began, off-key but celebratory not celibate! celebratin’ new joy their old ways a future, continued, imagined moooves… to their melody, ageless their own watching unawares, only concern for the beat.