Across The Grid ©2020 Louise Gallagher Across the grid of this digital universe we momentarily inhabit, faces smile and laugh brows furrow and foreheads crinkle. Sarah, sitting alone in her box in London yawns and stretches as dusk settles in. She raises her glass to the screen in front of her and takes a sip of wine. It's not really drinking alone, she hopes, when there's a virtual world of people right in front of her. In LA, morning sunshine streams through the window behind Jarred’s head. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and tries to shake off the dream he had last night as he takes another sip of coffee. While in Julia’s box down-under Tomorrow has already arrived. She can’t stay long. She's got lots to do today. Amidst the ebb and flow of conversation tethered to an invisible web of binary code spinning around the globe, a fluffy black cat’s tail flits across the bottom of one, one-inch square, a brown and white dog patters through another paying no heed to the virtual world of many lives full of thoughts passing through unseen within each box of constant dimensions holding everyone in place. Ripe with straight-laced consonants and plump vowels rounding out the stream of conversation time keeps flowing past words and images cascading and falling into the constant flow of lives gathered here in virtual reality. Connected yet so far apart. There is no time in the universe for distance to keep us apart in a locked down world.
On Wednesday evenings, I gather with a group of five other women on Zoom for an hour and a half of writing and sharing.
Facilitated by Ali Grimshaw of the Flashlight Batteries blog, she reads aloud a poem by another author and invites us to write whatever those words inspire.
The poem above was inspired by a poem called Zoom Morning Weather, by Josh Jacobs.