There are those among us / sanctimonious pricks, soul searchers, religious fanatics, etc. / who counsel that anger is bad, to be avoided / but let me tell you in no uncertain terms that good old red-ass anger, blind fury, mad as hell is the only way to purge certain feelings / like when that son of a bitch up the street, even after you told him to slow down, still ran over your neighbor’s dog, regardless of whether it was in the road or not / or some bully, bigger and stronger, kicks your ass just because he can / or when you find out your wife is fucking another man /
piss on that turn the other cheek shit, forgive and forget, rise above it, be a better man / nope, go fucking crazy, so mad you’re crying when you beat the living shit out of the bastard / so bat-shit red-eyed fevered that you’re in her face and want to eat her nose off / or, I guess you could jot down a few pithy phrases, register your complaint via email, be all sophisticated and French about the whole thing / I don’t know, there’s something about being wronged that just brings out the confederate-flag-waving bourbon-crazed redneck in me, makes me want to drink brown liquor, drive fast and wax poetic about what a load of buckshot will do to a man’s ass when he’s trying like hell to flee after you confronted him about his sins /
yeah, preacher, I could forgive him turn the other cheek and let Jesus have his way with him at some point down the road / but can you honestly tell me that even in your saved by the grace of the Lamb, washed-clean soul you don’t feel the power of the blood that surges through your veins when you get really good and pissed off about something? / remember, no lying / Jesus is listening.
Based in Asheville, North Carolina, Gary Carter's most recently published work is Eliot’s Tale, a reverse coming-of-age road trip novel that contemplates things done and left undone. His short fiction and poetry also have appeared recently in Dead Mule, Burnt Bridge, Muscadine Lines, Read Short Fiction and Dew on the Kudzu.