The one who will sneak six beers in into the movie theater,

Four in her purse

And two in

in her back pockets under her jacket

So that the two of you can get drunk while

You watch Jason murder all of the slutty teenage camp counselors.

The one who has curly dyed blonde hair on Monday morning

Cut so short you can see her scalp,

And by Wednesday night at the bar,

She is rocking two long black Pocahontas ponytail braids.

The one who went with you to get a tongue piercing

And when you chickened out

She got one instead.

The one who can wear five inch heels in the snow

In December

In Michigan

And can fall on an ice patch with a red party plastic cup full of vodka in her hand

And never spills a drop of the drink.

The one inspired by anarchy and Nietzsche and anti-consumerism and the hippie nation

But never forgets to buy you a Hallmark card, chicken soup or a birthday cake

When you’re sick, or graduating or celebrating your life anniversary.

The one who knows every lyric to every Wu Tang song by heart

And every word to every refrain of Les Miserables as well.

The one who will date you, confess her undying love

And when you break up with her

And marry the girl of your dreams

And start a family of your own

Still let’s you come over every once and a while

Every blue moon

And make love to her

Like you did when you went to college together

With impossible dreams of the future

Still cascading through your mind

That one.

That girl.

Is Pixie Prince.