010514 #stranger The car turns a corner, and another, following the outside edge of town in a japanese tea-garden demon-dispelling bridge pattern. The image of the man, nevertheless, does not dissipate, but follows the car, across the tracks to the county road, past the winter wheat and the fallow fields, between high corn on the gravel road that leads to the splattering of parking lots behind the one restaurant across from the gas station by the highway, the highway that purports, implicitly through its green signs with frank official information and its unofficial billboards full of smiling immortality, to connect this autumnal place with reality.