the coming crick

The crick 
in my neck 
is coming back 
It'll be here in full 
once I sleep on it. Come 
tomorrow morning, I'll wake 
with an ache and a stab, taking 
over my basic fit.
I'll 

accommodate it.
I have small repertoire
of things I do differently, 
subtle ways. Except it's damn 

hard to remember them all. 

I will!
I'll adjust 
let's not be amazed, 
'cause I got this 

crick. Or anyway, soon. 
And I've had it before, 
so I know the deal
and the doom.