Outside the old city of Chania on Crete
rests the neglected ruin of an old pleasure pavilion.
The walls and columns are crumbling away,
the mild steel reinforcing bars have rusted through
from the seawater used to mix the concrete.
Turn away from the boarded-up cafe,
and you’ll be faced with the empty seawater swimming pool,
now drained, disused, and lined with green weed and algae
floating in the trapped rainwater along with the dead seagulls.
You’ll find no tourists here, just the peaceful hush
of the sea murmuring against the rocks,
and the ironic grin of the Rubberman
still clinging to a decaying wall
with entwined arms and legs.
He keeps watch over the local lads,
daring each other to leap into the sea
from a rock ledge built in Homer’s era,
but still standing.