Car lot (sonnet of the car salesman)

I'm walking in new shoes
Through a very narrow space.
I'm getting closer to the thing I lose
In every window. I see my face.
I learned math underneath a little flag, counting up from nought.
It helps me see what's receding, this adjustment I've learned to make.
I looked inside a microscope, staring down my blind spot.
It didn't offer much direction, just wind inside a bag.
Everywhere's a destination, I keep a little map.
I follow lines to where they're going, I might find someone I know.
At night the road looks like it's ending, she could have set the trap.
I demonstrate with all the lights on, they clap at the end of the show.
Light reflects off every surface, unless you want it black.
Look both ways at all the faces, you might see me looking back.