It isn't that I want a particular book.
It's that I wish I had written a particular book.
Just a Second, reviewed this week in The New York Times, celebrates my own peculiar preoccupations: bugs, stars, perspective, and time. It's as if Steve Jenkins had taken a walkabout in my head and turned my random thoughts into art.
Sometimes, I think, like James Wright in "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota," that I have "wasted my life" (line 13).
Alas, this is one of those times.
Steve Jenkins, I envy you.
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