Bob Beamons theory on speed

Sweet Georgia clay cling to heels. Breathless , on the run 700 miles.

paying the last installment on a slice of apple pie. Paid with sandpaper hands of sharecroppers. Picking the pride of the Southland. Refusing to whistle Dixie, eye wrestling racist red faces. Colored boys swing, meaning swung, colored boys got hung for soiling panty-white hysteria.

Run ni*ger, run. Run past 16th street Baptist Church, run past Bull Connor's german shepards. On legs of Bob Beamon leap 29 feet into the future. Piston like movements powered by boycotts, buck shots,

nightsticks might stick to your ribs, semi automatic intentions. Condolences leave exit wounds, natural track stars run to silent applause. Only the sound of a body striking wind at the rate of 100 meters in nine seconds, speed...