Eighty-Six

i don't have words. perhaps
i've been robbed, or, to take blame from humanity
and claim it as my own,
i've probably misplaced them.
maybe it's best
that i have
and am
scattering them loosely, generously,
in patches of stinging nettles,
brown rocky streams,
and cold airport seat clusters
while i'm on my way
places.
they haven't done me much good,
or rather, i haven't
used them so well.
do any of us?
insult, make fights,
cause eyebrows to raise against gravity,
lips to turn down with the force,
hearts to sink, minds to scatter-
no, it's best that i lost them and
continue to lose
them, because
the most beautiful love
i
or you
have to give
lives in
the endearing selfless pauses squished between thoughts.