Sense Sonnet - Tickler

Out of Touch

I'm on the job, driving my truck,
A union city employee.
So, I'm used to pressing my luck,
Not working too seriously.
I'm texting a pal with one hand,
And cell chatting with the other,
Steering steady with my knee, and
Hit a big pothole - oh brother!
Across a lawn and through a fence,
And drive into a backyard pool.
The cab is flooding. I have sense
To yell for help - I am no fool.

I could be in trouble no doubt.
Maybe the details won't get out.