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by John Updike for Annette our San Francisco neighborhood] O when in San Francisco do As natives do; they sit and stare Amd smile and stare again. The view Is visible from anywhere. Here hills are white with houses whence, Across a multitude of sills, The owners, lucky residents, See other houses, other hills. The meanest San Franciscan knows, No matter what his past has been, There are a thousand patios Whose view he is included in. The Golden Gate, the cable cars, Twin Peaks, the Spreckles habitat. The local ocean, sun and stars-- When fog falls, one admires that. Here homes are stacked in such a way That every picture window has An unmarred prospect of the Bay And, in its center, Alcatraz. 1958