Grey lead escapes gleaming pistol barrel,
10 bullets soar high in the sky,
piercing fluffy carpets of blue clouds,
flooding air patches with dynamite stench,
as 10 heads sport curly hair,
crisscrossed in pools of sweat,
10 shirts of athletic spun cotton,
10 sweat shorts clinging to muscled leg,
10 time pieces wound on wrists,
10 pairs of footwear studded with spikes,
10 bands of multicolored foam,
fitted tightly to throbbing forehead,
10 chains of shining metal,
jingling against heavy chest bone,
10 pairs of eyes converging dead straight,
reflecting uncurbed desires of complete triumph,
10 sets of moist palms,
clenched tightly into blood curling fists,
10 pairs of curved ankles,
knelt towards saw dust race tracks,
10 pairs of pounding hearts,
ready to leap in heated ecstasy,
the 100 m sprint is just about to commence.