RESULTS OF A LIE DETECTOR TEST

                                        











                                         From the sleeping calendar I have stolen a month,
                                         I am afraid to look at it,  I don't want to know its name.
                                         Clenched in my fist I  can feel its frost,  its icy face.
                                         I cannot face the bewildered summer with a pocketful of snow.
                                         I imagine the accusing fingers of children who will never be born-
                                         How to shut out the cries of suffering death wishers,   awaiting
                                               the silent doors of winter tombs.    Deprived of cherished exits,
                                         I shall never again steal a month...or a day or an hour
                                             or a minute or a second,  unless  I   become desperate again.




                                                                         - Bob Kaufman