under a crushed velvet gaze i turn to clay ready to bend at will and fit a mold. i am an elastic rubber band man pliant and quick to stretch at the slightest tug. i am butter spread too thin melting in a hot bagel's craters. i am weak. i must be strong and resist the urge to turn to mush but be willing to adapt and roll with the punches. the punches hurt but it's okay. i get by.