Adair was coming in from Nebraska. She was a virgin, and she was a queen/
She was raw talent, upon which NYC, and its concommitant, LA, Hollywood,
We looked, and liked a good raw fuck, and when a goodlooking, intelligent kid came rolling out, we loved that baby, though a sign our time was done.
I’m not saying a goodlooking sweet babe, a locket, if Adair is bad, can reach the peach bucket, to smash the sprocket in which a little kid, up Harlem, not getting VVVVitaMMMine properly speaking not Mannahattas, however low key, or rhyme, gets this little kid out of his raison d’etre,
Adair a rockette?
Spam of Human Affection 
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