Adair, through most of her early days in NYC, had no idea where she was, what she was doing, or what it all meant.
She knew she was going to the top, and after that, there she was, up on the roof of the world, a plateau up on the top of the Empire State Building.
Adair was looking down on the world, and though she was a pauper, and she would, after some time, be required to go down to street level, she felt elevated,
She’d gone up there by elevator,
Been housed in this special room of the elevator,
This bardo,
This mish mash, this perfect splendor,
Adair was too muscular to be slendor. Beautific metrical riff of a dynamic but up there and glimpsing down, on the solemn shoulder of the plow, and drinks available, for about 100000X their worth,
Adair had arrived.
Spam of Human Affection 
Leave a comment