We here at Salto love the poems.

Dear Scooter, You will go to jail in the winter. It is fall now, as in “free fall.” You will have your ass to cover—in appeals court, and most especially in the shower. Outside, where you won’t be, the aspens will continue turning, year after year. They turn in clusters, much like public opinion has turned against you. Looks like you won’t be coming back to work—or life. Contentedly, Ginger

Eat shit, Scoot.