Landing in Lasalle

​   The world below sewed tight into quilt patches
                                flashed through gaps in clouds thinning as if aging,
   cows like scattered moles on the neck of Illinois

 Your skin grew closer to the color of clean
snow, so natural and pretty against the plastic window, my favorite

       song on something like its forty-third rotation
                         and I started to forget the meaning of it all

            I could see your breath pushing out in waves,
     your heartbeat slipping under the engine

My drink arrived, a glass of black something that leaked onto my napkin
                                before ripping the seatbelt from my chest
                                     and I was left clawing at the foldaway tray
                          trying so hard to ignore this thing that had seeped into the world,
  warm with life and taking its first breath in front of me

Tonight I’ll be up again, reading your letter under the tip of a lit cigar,
                    waiting for sleep to rock the fire from my fingers

DOUG FRASER lives in Omaha, NE, where he works as a copywriter for an advertising agency. He's recently co-authored and published Rrrrrrggggle!, the first book in a middle-grade comedy series. You can read an excerpt and download the book at
The Adirondack Review