El arte del buen comer

Pituca thinks she's the best,
the best ass for her armchair
and she knows well that today her chance is big.
She finally put her name on the towel;
she bought ivories from the Congo jungle
and there's always a firecracker in her head.
Surrounded by grand dames
who spill out of their blouses
with beastly sweetness, rouge, and Baron B's laughter,
that's how Pituca believes it...
Just yesterday she didn't catch love
and never waxed her cane
her mouth smelled like an ashtray.
She had a stroke of audacity and became
a fiery and fierce gambler,
the kind that never shows all the cards.
And today she eats the big apple
and leaves no seed,
she uses melodrama salt, but without overdoing it.
And that's how Pituca believes it...