We type and the sea replies in pages and images, In maps that curve like tides, in suggestions that tug at curiosity. Sometimes it gives us the codified old — salted, familiar, Sometimes a flash of neon schooling across the screen, startling and bright.
More fish, please, Google — a plea half-serious, half-wry, Sent out like a paper boat on an ocean of search, A net cast into algorithmic waters where answers gleam Like schools that shimmer and scatter at the touch of light. more fish please google
More fish, please, Google — not literal, but hungry: Hungry for discovery, new flavors of thought, For the small, unexpected fishes that dart between the facts — A recipe for wonder, a rhythm that refuses the known. We type and the sea replies in pages
More fish, please, Google — and yet remember: Fish are more than content; they are lives in currents. We ask for abundance without always seeing the nets, For riches without counting the cost to the sea. More fish, please, Google — not literal, but