on my way home through the yard i pillaged a tent. the 25th class reunion had taken place earlier - and what caught my eye in the deserted tent were the floral centrepieces at each table - white peonies with a daub of magenta. some were beginning to wilt, and von pointed out that they were only going to be discarded in the morning - that doesn't bear thinking about - all those glorious peonies on a refuse heap. so i went from table to table, plucking as many as i could carry, feeling in part like a thieving rascal, in part defiant. now the peonies are rioting in three vases in my room and in the kitchen. peonies make me think of cristina in the farmers' market, of pip in pavilion eight, of carol jackson at the university village, talking about talcum powder.