I'm not a sports person, but every now and then, I incorporate sports in my rhymes because I'm always grabbing from certain things and getting inspired by something whether I'm totally involved in it or not.

My pet peeves are people touching me a lot. Random dudes grabbing me and slapping me across the back. They're not doing it on purpose, but it's like they forget I'm a person. But you can't do anything about it. What are you going to do?

It would have been better to do what everyone else does, neither taking life too seriously nor seeing it as merely grotesque, choosing a profession and practicing it, grabbing one's share of the common cake, eating it and saying, "It's delicious!" rather than following the gloomy path that I have trodden all alone; then I wouldn't be here writing this, or at least it would have been a different story. The further I proceed with it, the more confused it seems even to me, like hazy prospects seen from too far away, since everything passes, even the memory of our most scalding tears and our heartiest laughter; our eyes soon dry, our mouths resume their habitual shape; the only memory that remains to me is that of a long tedious time that lasted for several winters, spent in yawning and wishing I were dead

Trying to do enough in order to be enough, we keep grabbing that rope and pulling it with all our might.

There are so many things I want to tell her, so many things she doesn't know; like how I remember when she first came home from the hospital, a big pink blob with a perma-smile, and she used to fall asleep while grabbing on to my pinter finger; how I sued to give her piggyback rides up and down the beach on Cape Cod, and she would tub on my ponytail to direct me one way or the other; how soft and furry her head was when she was first born; that the first time you kiss someone you'll be nervous, and it will be weird, and it won't be as good as you want it to be, and that's okay; how you should only fall in love with people who will fall in love back... I feel an ache in my throat, but i manage to smile. Two conflicting desires go through me at the same time, each as sharp as a razor blade: I want to see you grow up and Don't ever change.

"Grabbing a scarf off the chair, I threw it at him.

If I go into a sandwich shop or anywhere that features 'Today's specials' on a chalkboard more than 10 feet away I have to ask for a printed menu. I smile at people I don't know on the street and ignore those I do. When at home I often find myself grabbing my 'back-up' glasses to search for the better-loved pair I have left on top of my dresser.

I hate these platforms that are all over the place today they are all about grabbing attention. They are suburban! I never do a platform. Well I did in the 1970s but that was a bad experience.