by Charles M. Sumid
Copyright 2025 Written 2024

Invisible architect of my wants and needs,
you knew I wanted shoes before I did,
divining my divorce from my shopping history,
reading my heartbreak in my 3 a.m. searches.

I sing to you, brilliant curator of chaos!
Your actions are a mystery, your errors a spectacle:
suggesting dating apps to the happily married,
baby clothes to the childless,
funeral homes to those who searched “dead battery.”
Your logic defies all understanding.

I celebrate the endless feed, the wisdom scroll,
where cat videos follow catastrophes,
where my uncle’s politics and my ex’s vacation
dance in unholy congregation.
You have made us all equal in distraction.

Because I watched a documentary on Rome,
here are seventeen videos about aliens building pyramids.
Because I bought toilet paper,
perhaps I’d like more toilet paper?
Your reasoning is not my reasoning,
your methods are not my methods.

You have built me a kingdom of mirrors,
where every voice agrees with mine,
where my beliefs return like trained pigeons,
fattened and familiar, never challenged.
Oh, this comfortable prison of preferences!

You know my age (though I lied),
my income (though I aspire),
my interests (though they shame me),
my location (though my VPN protests).
You are closer to me than my own browsing history.

Teach us to measure our worth in likes,
our wisdom in shares, our souls in engagement.
For what is a thought unposted?
What is a meal un-Instagrammed?
You have given us the metrics of meaning.

Why have you silenced me, oh algorithm?
My posts echo in the void,
my reels unwatched, my stories unseen.
Did I not hashtag enough?
Did I post at the wrong time?
Restore unto me the joy of wider reach!

We offer you our data freely,
then panic at targeted ads.
We broadcast our locations,
then fear the stalker’s gaze.
You hold the contradictions
we ourselves cannot reconcile.

Go forth and multiply my notifications!
May your suggestions be ever slightly off,
your autocorrect perpetually embarrassing,
your updates forever breaking what wasn’t broken.

For you are the chaos we chose,
the master we made,
the machine that knows us better
than we ever wanted to be known.

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Note: An ode to the all-knowing, occasionally-right, always-watching force that shapes our digital lives, for better or worse or targeted advertising.

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All content © Charles M. Sumid, [2025]. All rights reserved. This includes all poetry, essays, analyses, and accompanying commentary. Use of this work does not transfer copyright or intellectual property rights.