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.