Mine not yours and don't tell me otherwise
I loved him first for his genius ridiculousity, brilliant insanity
Idea:
two fleets of zeplins
the former carries ready made homes
the latter, bombs, set to carve craters just the right size to drop the homes into

I fell next for his spiritual science, new age pragmatism
Thought:
maybe all of us are intrinsically bound by a integral of gravity and that integral turns out to be love.

But I love him most for his heartache, his depth for melancholy
Feeling:
tired of being a wordsmith and mathematician and designer and sailor, prepared to instead become a part of Lake Michigan's great biology

What I'm still trying to love is his hope, relentless in optimism and downright unscientific. The thing that took him off that ledge. I'm glad for it but I cannot call it my own.