old poem refound

This used-to-be town

When the eyes in the mirror look back,
you step into another dimension,
Elsewhere is always the twilight zone,

Would you have it some other way,
Drumsong only a measured beat,
and beat poets morphed into car salesmen?

Here in the land of used to be,
the clerk tells me she used to do
astrology, Now, she's found Jesus, there are no more stars.

She sells us candles, two for five, and reminisces
her Aquarian nature,
Is that what you want?

If there was a way to step through to when
a farm fed a family, light came from the sky,
fire warmed our houses, that would be worth
losing to,

With their Eleanor faces, I see them through
ripples in attitude, like waves in old windows,
I expect them to turn back again to mannequins
when the lights go down. There'll be one fellow,
old, in baggy clothes, sweeping streetsof cluttering smiles.
He still sweeps, the only skill that kept him.