By day a master of the universe
At his command a million things
Will dance to the rhythm of his mind.
A nod, a wink, a gesture makes or breaks
The careers and fortunes of minions.
Superman in a Saville Row suit.
He strides between buildings
He glides up escalators
He flies business class, always.
And yet he travels home by train
First class of course but still, a train.
And transforms at the platform
He returns the pin stripe to the pannier
And pulls on the wet weather overalls
And a helmet, for protection.
Then off he chugs on a Vespa Imperiale
Uncool, practical and domestic
At the mercy of traffic lights and buses.
His kryptonite is wedded bliss
Superman returns mild mannered and damp
Ready to hang up his cape until the morning.
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