Superconductor

I like to take the subway train
‘cause that’s where I met Lois Lane.
It wasn’t anything romantic--
such thoughts sank like the Titanic.

But on this broken down subway
ten years had passed plus a day;
we worked together once in Kent,
reporting stories Heaven sent.

(Perhaps they weren’t all sent from there
  and sometimes we had words for where.
  Yet even though we’ll pull our hair,
  Ms. Lane and I were quite the pair.)

On this subway, reminiscing;
suddenly, we heard this hissing.
Right outside our window view, dark:
Lois asked, “What’s wrong with it, Clark?”

“I’m sorry, Lois, I don’t know;
perhaps this subway’s low on dough!”
“Though our conductor seems sincere,
  no doubt they need an engineer.”

The conductor altered his step.
He said, “technically, I’m adept.”
“The engineer needs help, no doubt--
  Would you folks mind helping out?”

So I and Lois were agreed
to go to where the train had need.
He gave me a conductor’s card;
Lois and I remained on guard.

Then we walked back to a section
overdo for an inspection.
Through a panel, currents humming;
I said, “It’s this train’s shortcoming.”

“Be careful, Clark,” Lois advised,
yet I saw wires--no surprise.
I pulled the panel, so to view,
and that’s when I think Lois knew.

A surge of current went through me,
enough to light the deep blue sea.
I said, as suspicion plucked her,
“Guess I’m just a poor conductor.”

Lines 40