Having just survived a gunfire attack that felled heroic but imprudent street activist Dave Stevens, who lies in critical condition in a nearby hospital room, and having lost her hat, Lois, who should be writing all this down for her next Pultizer ("and the prize for Telling It Like It Is goes to ... Miss Lois Lane!"), chooses instead to harangue Superman about not marrying her.
This is why she is Lois Lane, and you are not.
Anyway, now that she's a streetwise black woman instead of a thoughtless pampered white woman, she realizes, "Hey, Superman's full of hooey! Why do I keep falling for his tergiversatory evasions?" Lois likes to use words like tergiversatory; it's part of how you get Pulitzers.
Why, Lois, you ask? Why do you fall for this line of malarky?
You know I couldn't
risk placing you in deadly
danger from my foes.
The answer: subliminal super-haiku. "No, Lois; these aren't the droids you're looking for..." Dang, Superman is a sneaky three-eyed kryptonian babootch!
Lois is too flustered to reply in haiku; can you help her with one of your own?