what a stance,
pedro burned
and it was nothing

like what he thought
it would be.

not a scalding,
not scotching
it was almost nostalgic.

and the memories
of things lost,
of what had been given up

to take it all,
to make do
with what life dished out

bury unhappy emotions,
unhappy encounters

for life to too short
a joke
to turn things around

don’t take anything seriously
and there is an unsettling

a cast of doubt
on belief.

is it really?