GOD

There She is in Her chaotic workroom.
2o feet tall
Birkenstock shoes
Denim skirt fastened at the waist with a safety pin
Off-the-shoulder blouse falling off the shoulder
Her hair is streaked with gray and flies about
Her face is glorious
And Her voice is awe inspiring
But Her eyes are distracted
It's no wonder

The orders are pouring in from Earth.

"Make my baby well."
"Stop war."
"That lying, cheating, son-of-a bitch husband. I still love him. I want him back."
"Send rain."
"Stop the rain."
"If you send me a bicycle, I'll stop beating brother."

She's trying desperately to fill the orders, but the fan mail keeps piling in:

"Our Father
Thou art Mighty and Terrible
We fall to our knees and praise Thee."

When will they learn?

She throws it in the garbage-in file along with the complaints and curses.

And She has other things pressing.
That tree She's been working on needs just one more little dab of brown.
And that perfect Ocelot is almost ready to be born
Oops, the tail slipped off again.
Oh well.

She grabs a pile of blessings and scatters them over the Earth.
One of them should land in the right place.

That silly woman down there keeps nagging Her for a perfect mate.
How many have there been already?

God runs her miraculous hands through her spectacular hair.
She sighs and another Jazz group forms.

She checks the time.

"Thank Me, it's time for a break!
Maybe I'll go to one of those church suppers they keep asking me to attend."

She trips over the pile of money she's been meaning to send to that guy who's researching New Energy.

Oh well, tomorrow's another day!