quit kicking the seat

the sky sure does look
religious today

the small boy in his buster
brown shoes
says to his momma who is at
the wheel of
their studabaker.

the radio is playing he's
got the whole world in his hands,
sung by louie Armstrong.

they are rambling down
an old road,
half mud, half paved.

cow pastures line each side
of the narrow road.

she peers out the window
glancing up at the sky
and says,
yes it does honey child.
it's a lovely sky today,

now get your arm back in
the window before a telephone
pole snatches it off.

and quit kicking your feet
against the seat.
you're going to get them shoes
all scuffed up
before we even
get to church.

I just polished them
last night.

Do you think God is watching us
all the time momma?

she looks over at the boy
her fierce blue eyes
studying him, under her hat.

what have you been up to?

nothing, nothing. it's just
I don't like the idea that he's
watching everything

we do. that's all.
well.

if you keep that thought in your
mind, you'll be a good
boy
all your life.

and didn't I tell you to
get your arm back inside this
car
and to quit kicking your feet?