On Jazz Fans & Security Systems
There's something about middle-aged white guys
who idolize black jazz and blues musicians
that always makes me uncomfortable.
Charlie Parker, they'll say, pouring the wine.
Bird. Mingus. Oh yeah. They get this
dreamy, faraway gaze, they exchange
Signs of the brotherhood.
Coleman. Monk. Brother Miles.
Their wives look away,
wait for the subject to change.
Outside it's getting dark.
The streetlights flicker into life.
We switch on the security systems.
--from The Good Kiss, a collection of George Bilgere's poetry, published by Akron University Press.