My friend ran away with his silent partner 
who stole my identity, whirling flecks. I’m trying 
to look at it from your point of view on your way to my lawyer’s office.
The current balance resumes its burly teachings. 
Candles out, pie for the asking,
no funk about clauses over boats. Still uneasy with beer. 

It is possible to get homesick crafting with macaroni. Of course.