how has it only been one week
since we stampeded
through lower manhattan
a week ago this time, we still didn’t know what it was like
to be inside our buffalo for two hours
going
and going
in humidity so oppressive
i sweat more than i ever have
in my life
a week ago this time, we still had training to do
and things to learn
and choreography to go over
a week ago this time, we still felt inside it
did not know what it would seem like
from the outside
what the actual event would be like
how the public would react
honestly, how we would react
how has it only been a week?
how was it only one week?
how was it only one week to train and learn and form community
and honor and become alive become a herd
get to know our particular bison so
that they each got names and were loved
absolutely loved
by each and every puppeteer?
i often joke that i don’t understand how time works
that it’s wibbly wobbly
that it’s not linear
that it’s quangled
that it’s a mortal construction
and that time is far beyond our mere understanding of it
but damn
one week feels like too long and not long enough
and an entire eternity can take place in one week
in one two hour chunk
in one moment of a styrofoam eye glancing towards
a toddler who screams “the buffalo looked at me!”
memories make our own infinities
and i hope, for everyone who experienced the buffalo
they can look back and live in a memory
for as long as they need
for even longer than the week it took to make them come to life
[i should look up how long it took to physically make
each and every
one…]
