A bus at night, when you want something simple — for an overtired night

There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself.

The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.

Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.

The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement. You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes.

Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Feel your cheeks let go.

Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.

The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses.

If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back. You might be planning something. Notice the planning, then come back.

Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.

Just the dark. Sleep.

Softer. Let the room get slightly further away. Leave it there.

Simple is the point. There is no advanced version to graduate to.

There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.