you are wearing a spaghetti-strapped nightie at noon
the man you are with lights your cigarette for you
you tilt your head
turn with a stripper’s flourish and say
well la-di-da
and slowly exhale a thin cloud of blue smoke
you are smoking of course
you smoke if you say things like well la-di-da
and wear spaghetti-strapped nighties at noon
you are cool and blond
a Hitchcock girl
the walls of your penthouse are light turquoise blue
the men who have loved you and there have been many
have serious names like Frederick or William
and you shake them off like crumbs from chiffon
but they still come around to stir your martinis
and walk your dog Bitsy
to give you pearl chokers and laugh at your jokes
you have ice in your eyes and a drink in your hand
you have silver blond hair
you’re a Hitchcock girl
a girl who says la-di-da and means it
and I am the girl with the broken umbrella
the dirty blond who couldn’t get a cab
who comes in at the middle with popcorn and coke
elbows herself and says what did I miss.