a yellow chainsaw

the red neon from the street blinks across my desk. it lights up the gouges from old thumbnails and the black cigarette burns. the guy sitting across from me is shaking. he says his wife needs out tonight. he doesn't have any cash left. he heaves a yellow chainsaw onto the wood. it smells like stale gas. then he adds a pair of jumper cables. i tell him i'm not a pawn shop. he digs into his coat pocket. he pulls out the title to a dead Pontiac. the neon blinks on again. it turns the pink slip purple.