***

The contextual algorithm works like a pimp.
Like a cholly mama's brothel.
It will offer you your, like, choice,
But to your taste and your request.
It will hear everything you say
And compiles an information field
Only for you.
Only! Your uniqueness through your preferences.
It's a little humiliating.

Artificial intelligence is a diabolical approach.
But it's just a surrogate, a crude fake, because it's not the same.
The algorithm of life itself realizes the same principle:
What's the question is the answer.
Well, you asked, I answered.

You chose to have a beer in the pub every Saturday,
like a true gentleman. That's commendable.
You're a character now with no words in your hand with a pint glass.
You've been pinned to this velvet square with a pin.

Nabokov, I know who you are, pinned butterflies in boxes,
And the boxes are framed under glass.
Dead butterflies are a monstrous craft.
We look at them, those wings don't fly.
What's the difference between dead and alive?
Well, you asked, I answered.

Do you remember that huge dragonfly over the pond?
Its transparent wings with red veins.
No one dared catch it.
If you're good with words, you're good with everything else.
But dragonflies don't talk, that's the thing.
-------------------------------------------------------
Ouija?
I don't know either.