The gmail interpolators algorithm my message to be about love poetry
They are wrong, all it is is
That I sent you a poem and said
love in my signoff.
To put the two together, presumptuous much, huh!
Machines – like data amoeba – sit back on their clever heels and think they are all smugly knowing about love.
They are not.
Even HAL, you do not get this even though you hung out with those guys for ages.
In Japan they labour yet to create these feeling machines
Always careful of the uncanny valley
And it wasn’t until I was ensconced in your circular screen that I realised
When the trance soundtrack kicked in and the small images spun like the
Talking rings
That I realised this was the technology you had developed
This was the sphere you had written
The code for, in the all-encompassing round
My mind took off in some various syntheses as I realised how conversant we are.
I could recognise you,
by the concept.