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.
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