Light strikes a deal with each coming night

I wonder what 50 degrees farenheit feels like in Spain. Should I bring my coat? Will it be sweater weather? How does it feel when it gets cold. Does the wind cut through you like you were never even there or does the sun make the top of your head hot? I'll know soon enough.
Spring is in Tallahassee today and it's a little bit early. Boston is knee deep in snow and New York is battling freezing rain and sleet, and here girls on the green are stretched out on pool towels and lathering themselves up with oil. It doesn't seem fair. How is it that we get the reward of an early spring complete with bathingsuits and dreams of the springs and the rest of the country struggles with the still frozen cold of winter. I think central park deserves the bathing beauties, not us. We've done nothing to deserve it. I haven't shoveled snow or been iced in or had to dress in nine layers of clothing just to get the newspaper. And yet I plan on scheduling some time tonight for a run after dark, when it cools down. And maybe tomorrow going for a swim. I'll walk home and sweat in the heat wishing all the while those beads sweat would turn to ice and I could have the winter just one more day.

One time, you bought me winter remember? It was the first day I had the occasion to wear a sweater. We bought purple tights from the american apparel store in down town and walked hand in hand the rest of the afternoon past old houses that looked like they belonged in the royal tennenbaums. You bought me a freezing wind and cold fingers and toes. I think you just did it for a chance to be so close and I won't be upset if that was your reasoning. And now that it's over, and summer is waiting to cast us into the fires of mid-day, we should go one more time to find the cold. I hear it'll be 50 degrees farenheit in London. I think that should do splendidly.