A Pome a Day for a Year

I wanna be, for one day, in the San Fransisco
or the Chicago, or the American town,
they show on the television.

Through the screen I feel the sun
on my face and back, pattering
my skin with photonic footsteps.

I want to stand on streets, with
barest of life, my sunglasses mirror
the fictitious world I covet.

I want to flow within the confines
of a formulaic episode, with
pretty neat bow and one-liner ending.

I want this made up, this imaginary
existence to be a thing I can
slot into, for real.

I want maybe a season or two,
side character to a protagonist,
friend to a hero, a cog of importance.