Monday Poem--"I Carry My Words"

I carry my words around
like loose change in my pocket.
Spending a few here and there;
getting a few in return;
wishing I had a few more.
But some of them I can’t get rid of.
Like an “x” in Scrabble
or a “q” without a “u,”
no one seems to want them,
although they promise a jackpot
if only the bars, or cherries, or oranges,
would magically line up,
and just the right sentence
would appear for them.
So, I try to slip “pusillanimous” or “avuncular”
into a poem
only to find that,
like Canadian quarters in a vending machine,
they keep coming back,
unwanted, unceremoniously refused,
by readers who know better
than to be taken in
by some clod with a thesaurus.
So, here I am, writing another poem,
trying to persuade you,
munificent lector,
to accept these humble tokens,
to make them your own,
to add them to your menagerie
of pulchritudinous yet otiose gems.
Please, just take the execrable things off my hands.