Extras

Only when my costume’s Been hissed at with steel Do my garments ripple in small, stormless waves. Only when my mask Has been greased in pale mud Do my blemishes blend with the sea of my face. Only when my hair’s Met a shower of glue Does it cow to the waves that my fingers might make. Only when my prop Has been sharpened in stone Does it shimmer like sun-shatter left in a wake. Why preparation To such a degree When an extra’s the part you’re most likely to play? True, when you’re starring, I’m off to the side, Doing my best to stay out of your way. But I have a stage, As do you, in the mind, Somewhere my name’s at the top of the bill. There, I’m flood-soaked And pregnant with lines And you’re in the dark standing perfectly still. Oh, noble strangers, Who pass through my life, Storied and nameless, busy and kind. There in the passing, Your extra I’ll be, And in my performance, maybe you can be mine.