I am tempted by the unforeseen, the way a beach wave sounds crashing into sand, the apartment in the heart of San Jose, bustling with feet and smells of fresh stirfry, or the future, like this open country field stretching out for miles and miles, the wheat honey-gold in the sunset.

I am tempted by what is to come, early mornings with light poking though window blinds, sheets tangled around my legs, waking warm and satisfied. Or love, this big embrace, arms outstretched and strong on this nameless, faceless, lover I’ll one day meet, or maybe already know.

And I am tempted by what I have not yet felt, a lightning bug buzzing against the sides of my closed palm, desperate for summer air and the chance to shine his light into the sky.