You and Butler, Butler and you. A dramatic love-hate relationship, explored.

You were not ready for the wind,
Or Butler—the architectural incarnation of the Big Bad Wolf.
And you, a little pig,
Your nose pink from the New York City frost,
Your tail between your legs,
You cowered beneath Butler.

But Butler stood tall,
Tallness that warrants the use of an analogy:
Butler is to you, as the wolf is to the pig.
It whispered in your ear.
What did it whisper?
Sweet nothings, the Wi-Fi password?
It whispered, “Go home, kid…”

But the whisper!
So strong,
So swift,
Sonically similar to a whooooshhh,
It was targeted at your tiny years,
It was received by your whole body.

You stumble backwards,
Your hair in your mouth,
You taste Olaplex No. 4 Bond Maintenance Shampoo.
Your umbrella’s concavity is reversed.
The wind jabs you in your eyes,
So lovingly aggressive.

At least the Big Bad Wolf had the grace,
To request: “Little pig!”
Butler is too self-certain.
Butler has the answers,
So it must not ask questions.
So Butler huffed,
And Butler puffed,
And Butler blew you down.

Yet the next day you find yourself,
Staring up columns of stone and whatnot,
Ambushed by the wind,
Again!
What gives you the strength, the hope, little pig,
To keep coming back?
Do you think of the wise words of Taylor Swift?
If you’re experiencing turbulence or pressure, that probably means
You’re rising.

Because what is Butler, if not a constant reminder
Of the paraffin wax to be burnt at both ends,
And of the extra mile whispering, “Come closer…”
And of the bull with glistening horns ready to be taken by you
And of the wind, pushing you back
Yet somehow, daring you to push your way in?

Butler Library via Shaina Sahu