And His Name Was Doug

and I knew he loved me.
Bigger than life,
he was a man’s man
and so at home in his skin.
His legs bowed just a little
creating a sexy swagger
when he walked.

He was ornery as cat dirt
most of the time
smoking non-filtered Camels
he kept tucked in a pocket, or
rolled in the sleeve of a T-shirt,
tanned arm hanging out the side window
cruising his titty-pink and white ‘57 Chevy
with me, and I knew he loved me.

He could cuss and fight
with the best of them in public.
He was a man’s man
and so at home in his skin,
enough so to feel secure
being gentle with me
running his fingers through my hair
while I sat on the floor
between those bowed legs
as we watched TV together
and I knew he loved me.

Then Uncle Sam asked
for his help in Nam.
The army needed medics.
He was pre-med at college
and he never thought to question.
The town sheriff was Dad
and Dad taught him
that a man does what’s right.

His name was Doug
and he was bigger than life,
a man’s man, so easy in his skin,
ornery yet gentle,
and I knew even my name was
safe in his mouth
because he loved me.

My dear God,
how I loved him too…