Campfire

 Erotic letters found in the pocket

of a brown leather jacket

The crackling of autumn leaves

not yet dampened by the winter rains

I check the weather on my phone

just as drops begin to speckle the screen

I duck into a shop for a last-minute gift

I paw at the tchotchkes, listening to the rush

of ocean waves emanating from a plastic rock.

The box says it plays five other “soothing sounds.”

It's not a very convincing looking rock

and the sounds do not sound much like

the ocean, the river, the campfire.

Pixelated sparks as you poke the logs

Ocean spray from crashing waves

A bouquet of roses that explodes into blossom

every time I press the button

Pages blank as snow

That  night the rain whispers against the window

As I nuzzle your ear and slip my hand

between your legs

Gray curtains of cloud, soft down comforter

Jacket thrown over the back of a chair,

phone buzzing over and over

Across the street, the 7-11’s cold white glow

Car tires on the wet road

Your digital moan