Hairs were sprouting from his nose.
His ears were much the same.
That hairy growth
Was oddly both
A curse yet path to fame.
Agents rang to book him.
The circus sought an act.
From an outcast
To a podcast.
An itinerary jam-packed.
High-wire artists swung,
From nose up to his ear.
They’d loop the loop
That circus troupe
Which always got a cheer.
Then first his hair turned white,
A sophisticated gain.
But falling out,
There goes no doubt,
His business down the drain.
