Tarde Caliente -- Hot Afternoon

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--- 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]

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