pants pressed in five minutes

it may have

been our first date, our first real

date,

after meeting in a bar

in the city

and exchanging numbers

on the back

of napkins.

i had hair then,

but very little money, strange

how things

balance out.

it was off Richmond

Highway,

the notorious route one south,

where hookers

and drug addicts

walked about.

no tell motels on every block.

the place was

called Steak and Ale.

dark, and old.

with red table cloths,

and real candles in the middle.

a quick horse and buggy ride

to Mt. Vernon.

i think there was a sign

on the wall 

saying George Washington

slept there. doubtful.

but maybe the feather beds were

upstairs, and

maybe he took Martha there

for their first date too.

but anyway.

you could get two

steaks and two baked potatoes

for twenty-five bucks.

all the bread and salad

you could eat, too. draft beers.

and if you said it was your birthday

the ancient waiters

brought you out a slice

of cake with

a scoop of ice-cream on it

and one lit candle.

but as i drive by the old

restaurant, i see that it's a dry

cleaners now, called

Fast Eddie's, 

in red,

the fluorescent lights read

shirts and pants pressed in five minutes,

all stains removed.

for sale,

wedding dresses, used.

and already it's

under new management.