A pup trailer named Alison (vignette)

One night he found himself walking past an empty transport trailer yard. Empty except for a half–sized trailer, used as a second pull behind a full-sized one. The pup trailer faced him broadside across the yard in the hazy light. On its white background, in black lettering, stood the single word Alison.

He knew the name to be a trucking company on the corner of a local crossroads. But the name also reminded him of an Elvis Costello song. With the repeating line “Alison, my aim is true ”.

A few weeks later he was wandering through a gallery of contemporary art. When he entered a room featuring a creative portrayal of a small white transport trailer. He circled it slowly, studying it, then quickly glanced underneath. There was no bottom. It sat suspended, open, on hidden blocks. Like the skin of a big lampshade.

He then thought of the pup trailer in the truck yard with the name Alison in bold print. And he thought of a statue and how it’s molded after somebody. Dedicated to someone. And he felt he was looking at the wrong trailer.