Somebody new to envy

I want what he has.
What he recorded and wrote
and walked through
each day
until night became all there was
to think about.
I want to take off my skin
and climb inside his skin
and see
minutes
the way he sees
minutes
and speak
with the sounds in my voice
that make him seem
alive
in my now and not
across ocean
and sky.
I want what he has
because what I have
isn't enough
to stop me thinking
about why he seems
to smile more often
than I do
and why what he
recorded
and wrote
and walked through
means more
to the world
than a thousand
of my days.
I want what he has
and what he sees
and I want it
today.