Fishing For Similes

I don't understand
the tops of letters
leaving me dry
as they fly by
as I preen my self
of their spikes and crowns
they call horns and pricks

that fall behind
like fading orgasms
yellowing in awareness
so
I'm going fishing for smiles
and as for me (whose
smiling leaves 
in finding the next thing)

I wondered why God
with her nouns, molecules
atoms and letters
all at the table
would hide in of all things
poetry

.
.