How Soon Do I Let Him Go

College? Who needs it? Shut the front door! I’m head’n out west to be a movie star in a bit. Keep look’n at fan magazines; I’ll be on the cover. I’m gonna’ be famous, I guarantee it! A relationship of two years and sixteen dates means nothing? I thought we had roots; I thought he was mine. Crying into my pillow, I think he’ll surely come to his senses! I thought we had this going; everything was so fine. It’s a nightmare I think, he will soon come around. On a Saturday his mother tells me he has taken his guitar. His thinking is crazy, he is Hollywood bound. He’s on a bus for L.A., to follow his dream and a star. A guitar! He cannot read music; he is not musical at all. Thought he wanted to be a TV star, I say stupidly. I am shocked, horrified, I nearly collapse over and fall. His mother shrugs her eyes, wanting to get rid of me. I go back home and crawl into my tiny lonely single bed. He’ll be back in seconds, I think. He has only three hundred bucks. Out in the big city, he’ll trust the wrong person, maybe wind up dead. He calls me collect. His phone is off; speech punctuated with s. I beg him to come home, say let’s get married, do things right. Married! He scoffs. I just had you around for kicks and for laughs. My speech is slobbery, I am crying, not understanding his plight. He has moved in with wild crazy Jasmine, who collects toy giraffes. I think to myself, this is not my sweet, tender loving guy at all. Part of me refuses to give up on our dream of what I want him to be. He has truly fallen off the pedestal, and it’s fallen off the wall. I hold on to him for years, the handsome prince who always rescues me. He calls me often at first, giving me hope each and every time, for sure. I need my man, the prince, the one I thought would carry me away. Try to act coy, but my emotions kick in and I beg him for a cure. It has been thirty-six years now, I guess Hollywood he will stay. Is it time to tear down his photographs? Time to throw away his shoes? I am wailing and sobbing now at all the time I have spent on him. What if I burned his plaid shirt and he came back tomorrow, then what? I crawl into my bed, wishing hard at the edge of my hopefulness rim.