algorithmic haibun

Sunrise beckons, and the autumn colors of the Pioneer Valley flow down the Connecticut River as I embark on a quest for Lyft bonuses. I weave through the tapestry of tranquil towns, eagerly awaiting the call of passengers, imagining encounters, and anticipating the stories we’ll share. 

deep autumn hues—

riders’ whispers on the wind,

unheard by the code

The algorithm stumbled, drunk, into the fluid dance between my passengers and me. How had the pulse of the community resisted its predictive powers? Or had I displeased Almighty Algorithm, who now condemned me to drift, aimless and alone, in a sea of strip mall parking lots?  

shadows lengthen,

silhouettes of missed chances,

Algorithm’s blind retribution

Or perhaps Algorithm is not Almighty after all. Hidden gems eluded it; local hotspots remained unencoded, our rhythms too syncopated for its predictive logic. The moon rose over the mountains, illuminating Algorithm’s clumsy fragility, for which, unexpectedly, I feel tenderness.

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