On the Prowl
Arlene Ang

The bus reeks of animal scents.
He sits by the window, his hands
enveloped by leather gloves.
His pulse quickens as he pretends
to pick something from the floor,
brush his beard against the knee
of the passenger beside him. Then
a quick stab with the ice pick.
His fourth victim slumps against
his shoulder. It is a Mongolian male,
age 30-35, with a predominant mole
under the left jaw. He notes
everything down in his record book.
With luck, the evening news
will provide him with a name.
Next stop, San Diego.

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