I saw SF from a rooftop

Or a hill or an island.

It was the sunrise once

But more often the sunset.

Sometimes it was the nighttime.

And each time

It was the light

That burnt or broke

The image.

San Francisco is a melodic mirage

(2:17 PM on a September Sunday)

San Francisco is a foggy basin

San Francisco is colder than its homes care to admit

San Francisco is just as cold

As its homeless admit.

(5 AM of almost every morning).