The Migraine Poem by Daniel Brick

All my life you have been present,
uninvited, uncouth, with the manners
of a spoiled dog. Who could possibly
love a mangy cur like you? You show up
early, before the others because you want
to corner me for the night, keep me just
for your selfish self. But later - and,
thank God, there's always a 'later'
in the world we share - when my head
is clear, I'll look ahead on the calendar,
and follow the horizontal lines of weeks
and months drive past me like finely-tuned
cars that make their owners proud. And I
will imagine out-smarting your early arrival
and racing away to preserve my clear head.
OK, I admit, it won't be tonight I get free,
and there'll be no driving for me. I'm as
hopeless as a career drunk. But you - you -
You're already here, lurking in the shadows
my electric lights can't dispel and decorative
candle light won't touch. It's just you and me,
again just me and you. All my life....