I’m like an iguana in a rum barrel.

I made my annual journey to Destin and drank all their rum.

They were kind to say goodbye with a swift kick to the bum. 

I buried my feet in the sand and enjoyed the sun on my face.

But damn that dominating ocean nearly got to third base.

I sought refuge in the pool where there wasn’t a single wave.

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t misbehave. 

You can call me pineapple princess or pina-colada whore.

As I left with a sour stomach and more than one canker sore. 

But I’ll be back for more Divas-to-Destin fun.

Because I’m just looking for my place in the sun.