“Zobel Gibbs br jumped off the roof br in my home town, ” said Treasure. br “I’ll never forget his body br as he lay there. br hitting the concrete br face first. I never knew br such an unhappy soul. br When I was seventeen I slept with him— br to give that tortured man br a taste of pleasure br but the depression was so deep br that afterwards he asked, br ‘What now? ’ br Just delight br wasn’t enough for him. He wanted br something more. br No one knew what that br ‘more’ was. br I don’t think he knew himself. br Only five people attended br the funeral. br My mother wept br since they were childhood br sweethearts br so when my father died br she took it into her head br to care for Zobel. br Maybe she thought br to cure him. Maybe br she was lonely. Maybe Zobel br brought back memories br of a happy childhood. br I don’t know but br I don’t believe br they were lovers. br Soul mates br might be the term. This went on br for eight years. Zobel wrote br poetry. br Sadly he invented br so many words br none of it made any sense. br My mother, br she said she loved br his verse. Not that she understood br a word of it either. But something br inside of him br never felt what my mother said. br I tried to speak to him, br boost his spirits, br but the mystery of br his sadness br remained. br I caught him one time br just before dawn br staring out the window br crying. br ‘Zobel, ’ I said, br ‘what’s happening? ’ br He rocked br back and forth. That motion br soothed him, br a little. br ‘Out there, ' he said, br then burst into br tears again. I was angry br so few people br showed up at br his grave.