You Are an Extra

You are an extra.

Not the hero
Battling the aliens
With bloodied fists
And broken face
But eyes still piercing blue
And perfect teeth.

Not the plucky girl
With the carefully casual
Wardrobe, who can
Throw a punch and
Detect the alien's weakness.

Not even the dog
Buried beneath debris
Who will paw his way out
To inspire our hero's
Last stand.

You are an extra,
Just a filler in the periphery
To take up space and
Offer background noise.
At the end of the day
You get an envelope
Full of twenties and
Lunch from the craft table.

But when the director
Instructs the mob to flee
The green-screen alien,
There is real terror on your face
As you run from
Nothing.