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Dialogue with Chef Michael

1 · Dec · 1999

Memo #6

Within every organization, among the people that push buttons, shuffle the papers, and cover mistakes, there are artist, musicians, and … poets. In the summer of 1996, I was brought into a company, doomed from the start, but filled to the brim with the most talented, intriguing people. For 60 plus hours, seven days a week, we slaved away to fulfill someone else’s dream. In out minimal spare time, we drank Guinness and slowly, ever so slowly, fostered each other’s plans to do something better.

One day, I had secretly brought a handful of my poetry to the office for a co-worker to read. He wanted to make me a star. I left the papers on his desk with a note that said something like “When you get a minute… These are for you to read. Don’t let anyone else see this!” Later in the day, I asked him what he thought, but he said he never saw the note or the poetry. In a state of panic and anger, I rushed up to our office, which was shared with four other managers and searched the room. Finally, I broke down and began asking people if they had “accidentally” picked up my papers. Our Executive Chef looked at me and said, “Those weren’t for me? I thought you left that for me.” I don’t know who was more embarrassed, but he made good by saying he wanted to talk to me about it later.
After we closed the club that night, with a couple of Pilsner and minds that were too tired to be defensive, Michael Martin and I talked about poetry and our crazy lives… and became friends. The following is part of our conversation in poetry that ended much too soon.
Years after I left Caffe Milano, Michael fulfilled his dream of opening one of the finest dining establishments in Prague, Czech Republic where he lives with his wife and children.

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If I could dig, it would b a hole
for us to bury our secrets,
planted… hushed away from noisy street cars
and overwhelming café’s
Demanding sunlight,
that mother who keeps our skins
from cracking
under a man’s frozen charm
Soaking the rain to begin flowers
And when we at last raise our dirty heads
smooth and shaven
begin the pruning and cutting
that teaches us to grow

-Michael Martin 7/96


As you
I believe in what I cannot see
as you
I have fought for permission to breathe
as you
this mind flows with visions unseen
to my naked eyes
as you
bury my secrets in a garden
to keep from telling lies

-penny rené 7/96

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I majored in liberal arts. Will that be for here or to go?


The key to a good Guinness is the smirk on the face of the drinker.
–Michael Martin

Posted by Penny Rene at December 1, 1999 09:10 PM