Michael's going south

I returned yesterday from a trip to Amsterdam. This poem is about a person i met while i was there, and i'd like to hear your opinions on it.



Michael's going south

Aging slowly becomes harder
So you go and seek warmth
in random people's hearts.
You sell maps to oblivion
wearing a golden smile.
"The weather here's cold" you tell me,
"And the people too."
These streets are so clean
but we're all wearing shoes.
"It's the coins," you say
"They've frozen this land."
So you're leaving in five months
And you're gonna head south.
"The streets are dirty in India
And I will walk barefoot."