Under an ’80’s Sky

There was an ‘80s sky. Our West Hollywood clouds were a surrealist pastel of coral and rose. A cyan aether interwove their billows. Caliginous or nacreous, these are the heavens that hold me. I am the tone of that decade. In my archive Yohji brushstroke shorts and the pink FW/25 Rick tank that my generous brother gifted me for Santa Day, I gazed through my windshield at the looming beauty. It was a perfect setting for the night’s plans. Imagining that breathtaking sky printed on a pleated Antony Price suit (rest in style, fabulous man), I swiped open the sunroof and whirred toward the theater. A classic Hughes film was screening early; the first of a double feature with Pump Up the Volume. I’d truncated my workout to make it in time; an emotionally trying edit but I had to attend. It had been years since I’d seen either movie on film.