the top of the staircase, passing the third floor. the door isn't alarmed. there's a ladder that leads from the base level to a smaller, higher roof. like a watch tower, or a bird's nest. watch for security in Barb parking lot and Kimball Drive. we said goodbye to others on the ground, we laid back on our backpacks at the highest point. it was cold and we stared at the moon. I was desperately seeking the strangeness and discovery of last spring. I didn't want the excursion to complete itself. I could barely look at the people next to me.

either approach from the ground via tree or climb from the bathroom window. there's a brick mantle, but the roof is stable. we'd go out here at night for my friend to take star readings. it's a good place to nap in the sun, if you're careful.

we went up here when we weren't sure anyone could love us, then we went up here and felt real, and peace. we promised never to show anyone, but later admitted we brought our crushes. and together we brought our friends

I hate this building god only went for weird parties in people's apts where we'd get way too drunk. and I didn't really like any of them. I didn't like how everyone was pretending to be grownups because they were living away from their parents, or how they went to college and decided not to be shitty teenagers who'd give you shit you for liking a certain band or dressing a certain way and suddenly started selling everything they made fun of. and then treat the kids they'd spit on like they were cool. just fuck off and don't act shocked when they don't wanna be best friends. a lot of people like that lived here.
apparently you can see the manhattan skyline from the roof. I was a couple floors down. I wonder if on 9/11 students went up here to try and see the towers.

my friend lived in the penthouse apartment, which I will count as the roof because I am the divinely appointed dictator and monocrat of The All-Time Greatest Index of Yonkers Rooftops. I love them very much, I am always very glad during and after our interactions. after I was in their apartment for the first time, I wrote down everything I could remember about it. one time I showed up late to a party and found the apartment lit but empty, 4 or 5 people spread out on a carpet on the balcony, smoking weed and listening to russian music. one of the first times I hung out properly with someone I'd eventually kiss in the same place. we threw cigarette butts on the expensive cars parked many stories below. you can see so much in strange directions.

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this is the all-time greatest index yonkers rooftops. I have no IDEA how you got here.

you can get my PGP code here, or set messages in bottles adrift in the bronx river. they will come to me.