The Original version of this poem contains slightly different alignment and spacing which (I think) adds to the poem. You can see that version here:
Letter to Adam Demirjian from Matthew Lorence contains excerpts from “It’s Not What You Think it is” and “Pile! No Pile! Pile!” performed by The Brave Little Abacus as well as a reference to “You Missed my Heart” performed by Phoebe Bridgers and composed by Mark Kozalek: a man whom I find no joy in giving credit to because he is a no-good fucking creep
I imagine it kind of like: Overheating New Hampshire Basement with Equipment Broke on Purpose Outside there’s a 2002 Outback and the remains of a fire pit Across the street there’s an American flag flying on a covered porch Walk in the middle of the road and you can see all the way to the mountains. You spent three weeks inside and came out with the album “Oh, good” another fantasy space: Place I think I belong but never found myself in I’d love to talk to you in such a place about such a place. Adam, Two years ago I drove 200 miles with my closest childhood friend to Storyland. It’s this theme park for children and there’s humpty dumpty and the woman in the shoe A little petting zoo and swan boats on a lake There’s a roller coaster with a big ice pillar and all these kids stick their tongues to it. There’s Cinderella in her castle and you know it’s not her but you pretend she is anyway There’s tons of little camcorders and digital cameras and backpacks and matching t-shirts and Lunch in Aladdin's castle - I used to always get Grilled Cheese There’s a mid afternoon show with Peter Pan and he told me I was never going to grow up Tucked in the back there’s this chapel It’s off white and has gold trim It’s so small, just a few pews and an altar It’s nestled atop a small hill, and the park is just out of viewCuppedCradled in the hands of some pine trees There are these shitty speakers that play music that doesn’t exist except in those old cartoons (those ones that are more scary than cute) The ones you remember with fear But then cry when you think about missing them too much. It’s the end of the path behind this Chapel There’s just the massive white mountains And it’s kinda like it’s the end of the world. I remember I stood in front of that chapel and listened to the never songs and That was it, I think The first time I ever felt that special kind of hurt That “never again” That “the only direction is forward” Then, a year later: It’s there again Just an hour from Storyland I’m in the parking lot, waiting for my girlfriend to get some food from an "Open 24 Hours" It’s the middle of the night and I watch her and her friend’s silhouettes They’re dancing through the isles, playing tag I feel my eyes zooming in and In my head, I make this into the title sequence for a movie I’ll never make Driving back home we stopped to get gas Small convenience store next to the pumps I think it's the same one on your album cover At least, now I believe it is. Adam, I stumbled across your work like a true spelunker Deep on forums praised by those in the scene I don’t know, sometimes when I’m searching like that I feel like the foreman I’m checking off the boxes so I can say "I know” more I memorize other people’s words and decide they’re right Then I take them and make the music mine I dig and dig for gems: anything to bring me back To the chapel Or the grocery store parking lot There’s a House of Sugar There’s the End of Summer There’s a woman’s heart Everyone missed. She lives on my street She could at least. You could live here too, Adam Where are you? You feel close When I’m on the bus to see my girlfriend Or my parents I’m listening to songs that sound like the end credits Where once I see the city I can see everything I’m going to do Even when I won’t do a single one. It’s like you said: “Always leaving, never staying” I’m like: Always stealing, never paying Grass is greener- Hoodwinked!, dreamer. Earlier tonight I had to say a goodbye In the car I put on “Pile! No Pile! Pile!” and let out some “Way before now’s” As I drive past Ashford (again) I finish this letter in my head And there’s that feeling, like: “You’ll never read it” Adam, on “Just Got Back” there’s a song called “Allston” I’ve got this thing with places, like I said and Allston’s just a twenty minute drive from my childhood home Strange how we find each other like that. It feels like you wrote your songs for me But Adam, I know you're just another thing I use to distract and daydream. I don’t like that for everything I’ve found in the cave, I’ve rarely shared it Didn’t have the courage, But I had the ego to lock it in a box and call it “mine” Bind it to a memory and make it “nowhere, never” music I’m angry and I’m a cheater But I do like you, Adam. I promise. I’ll still like you, Adam. For all the ways I felt on Rockwell Ave I'm wondering now: do they really need a "Letter to"? Foresters and carpenters and scuba divers, god bless them I could write to them But maybe I shouldn't After all, This is my “Letter to Adam Demirjian” But it is also “My resignation from the S-C-E-N-E” Hating things is getting old