Whenever you're ready

"Whenever you're ready"
she says, smiling.

The sleek grand piano
the unfamiliar keys.
"Whenever you're ready"
I think. "In that case,
I'll just sit here forever!"

No.
That would be worse.

Why did I ever think
this would be a good idea?
I'm not perfect.
I'm not prepared.
I'm not
ready.

Anxiety drips off my hands
like water off an icicle.
I'm sweating so much my hands
are going to melt. They're
watching, waiting
for me.

The keys are too soft,
too white, too stiff.
But I can't stop now.

One note after another
Click-Click
Like a typewriter
with a long essay
to write.

The song ends. I am done.
Stand up. Take a bow.

Oh. I remember now.
I smile
The audience is clapping
"good job! good job!"
This is why I do what
I do.

Joy.