Scooter, Germ Man, forgetful fellow, fall guy—
You are on my mind, always and always.
Try to remember, Scooter, try to remember
The things a veep’s creep contemplates
At
Operation Iraqi Freedom, Shock and Awe,
Flowers blooming in the hands of children.
You went into jail in the summer. It is fall now,
And the aspen leaves are turning, turning.
You have lies to disseminate, asses to cover for,
More novels to write, of bestiality and pedophilia,
Of children choking on genitalia.
You went into jail in the summer. It is fall now,
And the aspen leaves are turning, turning.
In Najaf, where pilgrims congregate, the cluster bombs
Bursting in air, gave proof to the night
That WMDs still were not there.
They gather in clusters, the children of
Their thin stems disconnected from the tree of life.
You went into jail in the summer. It is fall now,
And the aspen leaves are turning, turning.
You still have stories to cover, cover stories to create,
The Iranian nuclear threat to authenticate –
Iraqi elections and suicide bombers, biological threats –
And the aspen leaves will be turning, turning.
Remember always those leaves that are turning.
Try to remember them when you
Get up in the middle of the night to defecate,
Straining to remember what it was you ate,
Remember that we have not forgotten you.
You went into jail in the summer. It is fall now,
And the aspen leaves are turning, turning.
Try to remember the kind of September
When Libby was a likable fellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When life was, oh, so yellow-cake mellow.
Come back to work, Scooter, and to life.
Until then, and please don’t forget,
You will remain in our thoughts and prayers.
You went into jail in the summer. It is fall now,
And the aspen leaves are turning, turning,
And holy cities are burning, burning, burning.
