I killed a man with a javelin. The javelin wobbled
in the air but made no sound.

The victim was a gray man in a herringbone suit,
& the javelin went through him. I did not heave the way I wanted

to heave. I let go without the foggiest idea of who he was.
He lay in the grass like a banker just returned

from the vault. The javelin was made of rare earth metals;
the man was mostly a composite. He seemed to me all that is best

& worst of Wall Street. There, a man may cry out while unbuttoning
his shirt, exposing his bosom bone.