world,there is one Mark you cannot beat : The Mark Inside…                                                   I left the Rube standing on a corner , red brick slums to the sky , under a steady rain of soot. “Going to hit this croaker I know. Right back with that good pure drugstore M. . . No,you wait here – don’t want him to rumble you .”No matter how long Rube . goodbye kid.. Where do they go when they walk out and leave the body behind ?                                    Chicago : invisible hierarchy of decorticate wops,smell of atrophied gangsters,earthbound ghost hits you at North and Halstead,Cicero,Lincoln Park,panhendler of dreams,past invading the present,rancid magic of slot machines and roadhouses.                                   Into the interior : a vast subdivision,antennae of television to meaningless sky . In lifeproof houses they hover over the young , sop up a little of what they shut out. Only the young  bring anything in,and they are not very long. ( Through the bars of East ST. Louis lies the dead frontier , riverboat days. ) Illinois and Missouri ,miasma of mound-bulding peoples , groveling worship of the Food Source , cruel and ugly festivals . dead-end horror of the Centipede God reaches from Moundville to the lunar deserts of coastal Peru. America is not a young land : It is old and dirty and evil before the settlers , before the Indians. The evil is there waiting .                                                                                                                      And always cops : smooth college-trained state cops,practiced,apologetic patter,electronic eyes weigh your car and luggage, clothes and face ;snarling big city