Beyond Hammonton

Night is longing, longing, longing, beyond all endurance. —Henry Miller The back roads I’ve traveled late at night, alone, a little drunk, wishing I were someone on whom nothing is lost, are the roads by day I take to the car wash in Hammonton or to Blue Anchor’s lawnmower repair shop when the self-propel mechanism goes. Fascinating how the lamplight that’s beckoned from solitary windows gives way to white shutters and occasionally a woman in her yard, bending over something conspicuously in bloom. So much then is duty, duty, duty, and so much with the sun visor tilted and destination known can be endured. But at night . . . no, even at night so much can be endured. I’ve known only one man who left the road, followed an intriguing light to its source. He told me that he knocked many times before it became clear to him he must break down the door.