God Vanquishes Satan from Heaven God had enough of the ocean reflecting His tired face, of picking stars like lice from His hair. The moon, hanging in his room, like a light bulb, coughed black days ago. He doesn't care. He is old and safe behind His whirlwind. "Give me some numbers," he says, poking his fingers in Jesus' belly. He plays lottery all day and slurps spaghetti through His great toothless mouth; The dirty dishes stack about His room like lists of things-to-do. The moment He closes one sleepy eye, the Angel Satan appears, circling God's bed like a motel chambermaid. Satan wipes clean the Lord's ashtray with a white wing and turns up the volume on the TV. He opens the curtains and the sun suddenly rises. Tired of all the racket, the Lord finally gets out of bed. Satan calls it 'a miracle.' The Lord, in His fury, points to the door and Satan takes this as a sign, counting his blessings as he falls to earth. And then there is silence, and the Lord calls it Good. Jamie Wasserman Back to the Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks