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"Of Delinquent, Errant Joys" by Ronita Chattopadhyay


I like the way the word starts

because it reminds me of delicious (ness).

And then, suddenly, without warning

it lapses into criminality

with a foreshadowing of worse to come.

And then I think of errant -

a synonym (?) -

and all I can think of is errant joy.

Which brings me to something else.

I mean I don’t condone lawlessness.

But shouldn’t we always ask -

Who gets to decide what is permissible and right?

And why?

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