Tarde Caliente -- Hot Afternoon

--- Matamoros, Café Los Panchos mid-1990's The old panaderia (café y pan de dulce) on dusty Calle Guerrero between Once y Diez is noisy and hot. Sipping their best café con leche while eating my barra de pan con rico coco tostado, I, Americano viejo, watch Martin, youthful mesero. He passes among the tables. Through the kitchen entrance, I see another muchacho; he is washing stacks of dishes. The heat of this first day of May radiates from grey cinder blocks, reflects off the speckled tile floor, soaks my guayabera-clad sides. Martin, smiling, brings la cuenta. He asks: "Hay algo mas que podamos ofrecer?"* [*hay algo mas que podamos ofrecer" = is there anything else we can offer]