Check & Mate

Seven evenings I’ve wondered
How you can serenely sip your cup of Earl Grey,
(Like a washed-up drunk wetting his horn)
While speed-reading your filthy tabloid,
And completely ignoring me.

Seven mornings I wake up
With this bitter-weird sensation
Because my tongue strangely tastes like tea
(Which forces me to ask this tawdry question)
Have you been kissing me?

Seven days and seven nights,
One week of wondering and waking,
Maybe we should just continue this game
(And perhaps before it ends),
I would somehow stumble across your name.