It knows me better than I know me
Thinks of me, thinks for me
Pays my bills, entertains me
Directs me, reminds me
Briefs me, captures me
I’m captured, that’s for sure
A lifetime of convenience
or my money back
But how about my soul?
Who has that stored away
in their passcode-gated clutches?
The Russians? Mark, Jeff or Elon?
If I’m a DIY’er, whose help do I need?
It helps me without the need eat, bathe or breath
I think I live for it, at least I’m starting to believe
A wise man once told me I should never hit delete
but I can’t remember who he was or if he was real
My memory is low, better upgrade so it feels
and thinks and loves and acts so I needn’t worry
Can it do that? Does it worry?
Does it hear my inner thoughts?
Or are brain waves store-bought?
Better Google it to be sure.
Raj Tawney is an American nonfiction writer and poet in New York, covering culture, race, food and humanity. He was a featured poet in The Iowa Review's 2020 National Poetry Month series.
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