You could shake your knuckles at the sky. You could get mad and say ‘I don’t got nothing,’ You could get stuck. You could grab the past and drag it with you like a bag of rocks. You could grab that new diet with grapefruits and a brand new exerciser, and maybe that that new and improved washer dryer set. You could grab, and grab, and grab, and grab till your fists turn green. You could grab everything you ever wanted, shake it, try to make it go boom, yet you could never, ever grab enough. Pop.