Dos Margaritas

Drawing on the back of my hand
Stripping conscience of moral pains
Throwing a cow from the tenth floor
Traveling under the moon that sweeps the backlands
A Chilean oyster, a kiss in Paris
If I cut my hair and changed my nose
If Vital wrote the constitution
If I never wanted someone who never wanted me
Being two and being ten and still being one
If revenge erased the pain I felt
Being dry, being straight, exempt from morals
If I never remembered the damage I caused
All of this would make me happy
Absurdities would make me happy
But nothing will make me as happy
As two margaritas