Adair Going To Land (Island) in NYC

Narrator, a Vietnam War Veteran who grifts in Penn Central:

“First thing happen to Adair Kellström, her hitting the Mean Streets, dog in the fight, pedal to the metal, bullet to the bite, down to the Nitty Gritty, the gruesome, the dirty little lie, not Plato’s noble lie, or Plato’s noble lay. Plato’s Saigon Noble Lay, procured by Uncle Sam’s funds, found in SE Asia.”

First Interlocutor, Modeling Agency Exec :

“Adair is good looking. That’s never been questioned. More than one Nebraska cornfed breathing fire and the gospel, ‘boy’, saw her as a good mother in the making.

“They knew Adair could fly, same as Michael Jordan, as Adair shot them down, one by one, on the court. Adair loved basketball, and basketball loved her. Adair could do things, on the court, a good mother might need to do, with no motherhood in sight. Motherhood no aim. Double dribble no quibble, win signs refined. Bogo Big Boobs, yet Adair knew the sky.”

Second Interlocutor, Fashion Photographer :

“Cooling her jets, NYC sidewalks we love, downside downtown, love up above. Looking for court, needing a lodge, Adair sees the YMCA, universal love, a pool, a tower, a shower, refreshments, love, the fruit drink Hi-C, ping pong and chess, late into the night, chats. Okay, we’re all democrats here, and thus lovers. Adair, a supermodel among us, bunking down, a good NYC downtown beatdown singing like a zipper.

“As if a zipper gave permission.”