Algorithm

 Framed by the mouse: all-go rhythm futures

A walking cliché of pop art what-seems,

Thin as a light beam, broad as a stretch screen,

An up-down hallway of fairground mirrors.

Me and my algorithm every day

Advertising selves I would rather hide,

Just my type as the keyboard decides

Which pick-and-choose next to scroll on display.

Am I really that person staring back

Self-portrait of stream data in the cloud,

Pixel parody of random search tracks

Overdetermined and under-resourced,

Those me’s I see trapped in my in-crowd

Living every second computer-endorsed?