In twilight's hush, where secrets play,
A swinger roams, with a curious way,
He searches high, he searches low,
For a symbol hidden, that only few may know.
The upside-down pineapple, a sign so fine,
A beacon calling, to those who entwine,
In lifestyles liberated, where love knows no bounds,
The pineapple's inverted, a signal all around.
With eyes that scan, the rooms and the night,
He seeks the pineapple, shining with delight,
A password unspoken, a wink to the wise,
A invitation whispered, to those who compromise.
His heart beats fast, his soul feels alive,
As he finds the pineapple, and the secrets it implies,
A world of pleasure, where boundaries blur and fade,
The upside-down pineapple, a symbol of the unafraid.
So if you see him, with his eyes on the prize,
Don't be surprised, when he asks with a sly guise,
"Is the pineapple upside-down?" a question so bold,
For in the world of swingers, secrets are told.
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