the one in the pickup truck

You know we are looking at you, don't deny it. We're pulling out of the coffee shop, you're pulling in. We debate on whether we should turn around, go back, thank the barista for the coffee again, just to bump into you. We laugh instead, turning into the bank parking lot. But know that we thought about it, okay? You, with your manly pickup truck, your scruffy beard and sparkly eyes. Yeah, you. We are still at the bank when you leave, your venti coffee in your gloved hands. I like a man who can handle his truck, his coffee and two giggling girls in a red Toyota.