we'd stop

Transparent are the bars of soap in pleasant blue-green shades of glycerin and perfume to soothe and protect the skin of your face kept inside safety lockers of banks by the river on which live alligators that think they are crocodiles, thick skin and sharp teeth of the boredom of Tuesdays, 10 AM wishing to wave a wand at the hats of sorcerers trying to turn pots of clay into shells of gold and silver, thin lines of decoration on birthday cakes of babies whose birthdays fall on deaf  ears while the world waits to celebrate happy new years for more than three hundred days every year – and a day more on years that leap, pretending to be frogs or at best, tadpoles resembling very young fish inside little bathroom tubs and puddle pools in which grow lotus, at least seven per pool