Sinful Keys
About the nerves that accompany drinking espresso & performing a musical piece in front of an audience.
The espresso machine pumped out one doppio after another
Drip
Drip
Drip
Until it had succeeded in creating
Six perfect shots — that I then accompanied with oat milk.
One gulp after another,
The nerves I was already feeling escalated until my heartbeat reached
111,
Then 128,
Then even 154.
My heart pumped enough blood for two and
Soon the shakes and trembles followed.
When it was my turn to perform,
The beloved songs I had practiced prolonged,
My unmanicured — leaf-like fingers touched those worn-out keys
And forgot everything they had ever been taught.
They stumbled through the notes on the page
Anticipating
Pausing
Waiting
Until the blurred vision of their owner cleared.
But it didn’t. Rather,
It blurred
More,
And more,
And even more,
Until soon, droplets from above fell on my
Unmanicured hands
Staining the dry skin where it had fallen,
Subtly cleaning the keys of the sins bestowed upon it.
