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If you asked Adair, her parents, her friends, and the many members of her community who loved her, why they encouraged Adair to leave Nebraska for NYC, the most common answer would have been so she could make the most of her gifts: her wit, her intelligence, her beauty, her vivacity, and so on.

They thought the world of Adair.

If Adair made it big in NYC, it would be the same as they themselves making it big in NYC.

If you can make it there, (in NYC), you can make it anywhere!

They believed crap like that.

They believed in Adair, though, sincerely believed, and Adair would not let them down– if she could help it.

A thought you’ve got to hold to– cling to– as a monkey on a bough– a bow sprit on a prow– an owl on the prowl– moonlit gimlet printemp– these Nebraskan others, loved Adair. They would never strip her nude and then throw her into a maelstrom, an abyss, a Grand Central Station. A thought I’ve got to hold on to–

Adair might have been a sacrificial lamb sent [P.S. “I love you”] or [P.S. S.W.A.K, wherein S.W.A.K. = Sealed With A Kiss.] to Babylon– or Baby Salon– where we’re going to do this, but only on the condition we love the baby, as a sacred bond. Not a stock, but a bond; not a knock but a belonging.

Adair’s got a golden fleece, white made out of snow. Everywhere Adair is sent, the golden fleece is sure to go. Followed to her to school one day, school one day, school one day….

Followed her to 9 East 71st Street one day, in Mannahattas, as “sheep” were sure to go, (the market is in sheep surplus as all the schools, including the Dalton School, sell out.) But Adair, put up a scare, will fright, and let out a yell, to grab out an abject, as Trafalgar Square, fizzing in air, boom, boom, boom, go low–

Grab a pussy?

A tampon?