Opened Up To Explanations, Please!

Why is it,
Black folks...
Are expected to calmly explain,
How crime, being disenfranchised...
And cruelty directed constantly to demean.
Affects,
Their emotions wanted more openly seen.
Done with a spitting of venom,
From mouths shut biting on trembling lips.
Wished less closed.
With a heated to spew abusive language.

With a purpose that is meant,
To bring to their eyes...
Tears to fall as if from Niagara or Victoria.
And...
Some kind of emotional reaction.
Caught to capture,
By a probing and note taking white journalist.
Trying the best they can to express empathy.
For as long as a studio camera,
Stays on their face awaiting...
For a smile much too broad,
To misinterpret holding back laughter.
With cheeks puffed as if blowing up balloons.
And both hands now covering a mouth,
Hoping the sound of moaning groans...
Are kept prevented from out,
Hysterically screaming.
With an inability,
To keep from rolling on the floor.

'I apologize.
I didn't mean to be perceived as uncaring.
Maybe if I take,
Another way to sit.
Leaving the viewing audience...
Close to becoming convinced to identify,
My attempts as a feeling human being.
To at least have rehearsed this to practice it!'

'And...uh...
What am I to do?
Pretend I'm not listening,
To your off camera confession?'

'Look.
You've got your job and I have mine.
And...
Besides,
I am needing from you...
More seething bitterness.'

'What?'

'No!
That 'what' was much too timid.
Let me explain it to you like this...
Your intellectual acceptance of racism,
Is admirable.
I can dig it.
Some of my Happy Hour friends are Black.
However...
We invited you here in the hopes,
Our ratings would blow the roof...
Off this cemented in steel concrete building.
Do you know or come in contact with,
Other Black people drooling with hatred?
Surviving off federal grants.
And cuss words seldom heard.
In the homes of gated suburbanites?
Trust me.
THAT attracts,
Not only paying advertisers.
But bonus checks as well.
How much time do you need to deliver grief?
Hold on.

I'm sorry.
I didn't mean grief.
I meant unbearable pain.
Mixed with a touch of sorrow.
And just a hint,
Of guilt.
Mysteriously kept in our viewers minds,
To wonder why.
With your left eyebrow raised high.
As the camera slowly zooms into your eyes.
What it is you have yet to reveal.

How much time do you need to practice that?
We are going to be Emmy and Oscar bound.
You hear me?'

'I...ummm...
Honestly I am left speechless.'

'Terrific.
That's exactly what we need for your close-up.
We will shoot that first.
Don't worry about it being out of sequence.
Now...turn around.'

'Turn around for what?'

'I'm going to do something to get,
Your eyebrow to raise.
I'm determined to have you deliver my bonus!'