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The Griffin Park
On Sunday Afternoon

I hear the young ens mingling about the undefeated champions that they are.
I hear a women yelling at her energetic kids to stop fighting.
I hear my cousin sigh of frustration because her infant wouldn't stop crying.
I hear clink.. a sound coming form the aggressive hitter.
I hear honk..honk coming from the anxieties drivers awaiting to park.

I smell a distinguish aroma its strong,tearing and spreads.
I smell the smoke and sink of burning charcoal.
I smell salty,clean,uncooked meat.
I smell of fresh inserted maneuver.
I smell sweatiness of dog coming form my cousins.

I taste the salty drops of sweat rolling down my face.
I taste a fresh green sour apple.
I taste the juicy just cooked carne asada.
I taste burning cold soda going down my throat.
I taste sweet long lasting gum.

I feel the sticky hot air on my skin.
I feel the hotness of the sun burning on my head.
I feel the vibration of the bat hitting the ball against my hands.
I feel people staring me down with hate.
I feel the hot coffee burn my tongue.

I see the skin dark women run through traffic to catch up with the rest.
I see my cousins fighting over the cold soda.
I see the old fat guy searching for boogers.
I see my grandfather expeditious eating roasted corn.
I see a gathered happy family mine of curse.