the scholar

the dancer
in her tights, and heels,
light on her
feet, persuades
you with hips
and lips
towards
something like love,
but less.
she spins
in the colored
lights, arms
over her head,
draped in dollar
bills, losing herself
in the bright
shadows of the room.
i'm working
my way through med
school, she says,
a scholar.
it's enough to weaken
your knees
to put the key under
the flower pot
in case she decides
to change her mind
and come over.