poet, didn't know it

When asked how he would like to spend his nights,
He answered thus to which his heart appeals:
A place of shining surfaces and lights,
A bastion of g-strings and clear heels.

He hits yon ATM, two-dollar bills
And verily traverses to the stage.
With bulging pants, anticipating thrills,
He happily forswears his weekly wage.

Positioned thus within sight of the pole,
His searching eyes--Oh most unholy quest!
A lengthwise-folded bill meant to cajole
From lacèd prison siliconèd breast.

He cedes his passion to a heart of stone,
And, soul and pockets empty, leaves alone.