Naked Mall Rats

I will not buy paper for this poem.
I will scribe on my envelope.
Stare at the rats scurrying from store to store
Hunting for more and more.
Cells ring; sales are king.
I do not despise Adam Smith’s ways,
But today, the lights flash on the cash
And this mini-city’s dash
To find completeness
In shopping bag brimmed with emptiness.
“Is there an accessory I missed?”