Axl on an Airplane

by nmtoomey

I flew into Boston last week, and thought Axl Rose was sitting three rows ahead of me. I immediately imagined writing an entire book of poems about (for) him, and also wondered if he was still alive. I came up with a few titles: The Ghost of Axl Rose, Living with Axl, Axl on an Airplane, and my favorite, Contemplations of Guns and of Roses.

I really hope I follow through with this project.

Here are the first few poems.


Sweet Child of Mine

You are bloated

and smell like Dexedrine

Why aren’t you sitting

in first class?


Welcome to the Jungle

Your album art

made me feel




You can’t find your belt

and we’ve run out

of leave in conditioner again.

Your Grammy is missing


Paradise City

None of the girls

wear bras.

And the boys

read books

and take you to the movies.

Everyone is fucking

And everyone feels free

There are no mice in the house,

not ever.