The app knows what time
I eat breakfast, how much
sugar I put in my coffee

which days I play hockey
how much time I spend skiing
and where. The app knows the moon

cycle and its influence on the waterways
knows when best to fish at Sheep Creek
what color lure to use what type of salmon are spawning.

The app knows I spend too much
time on fantasy baseball fields
on reading snow condition reports

technology news
and lurking the career page
of the local public radio station.

The app knows things I don’t
even know about myself

knows my eyes are failing before
I will even admit it
to myself or my children.

The app recognizes the faces
of my children, my wife’s nickname
and that I have few friends

in my contacts and that I call
those friends rarely.
The app knows my loneliness

and my favorite song by my favorite
band and knows that I cry
whenever I play it.

The app knows how loud
I like the volume when playing
my hockey pre-game playlist

and how long it takes me
to make daily laps between
home and work.

The app knows and reports
on the absence of traffic
along the route.

The app knows I find
it’s knowledge, creepy.
That I secret away details

I hope it will never learn.
The app knows I know
it is always listening.

The app knows weakness
sees and hears it coming
in many shapes.

The app knows the weakness
of my mother’s voice and lungs
breathless on the phone.