DEAR GUITAR THEIF

Dear guitar thief,

I'm writing in hopes that you return my beautiful Yamaha CPX15 West acoustic/electric guitar to me pictured here. And if you could do that before my string of gigs that start Wednesday, I'd be even more appreciative. I'm hoping I guess that you just borrowed her, just to write a song or hang on your wall so your date Saturday would think you wrote songs or something, and maybe you just forgot to bring her back when your date was over or your song or whatever it was you were doing with her. I don't want to know. Anyway, I'm reminding you to return her now.

She belongs here with me. She was given to me by Yamaha a few years ago and since then we've seen just about all of this great nation and much of the world together. I'm not co-dependent or anything. I mean, I know I don't NEED her, I'm still a whole man without her you know but there's still a small acoustic guitar shaped hole in me now that I fear will never be filled again. Yea, Yamaha could probably send me a new one or I can play her twin sister the CPX15 North (though her input jack is busted and she's not as pretty) and my insurance company would gladly "replace" her but can something so close to a man ever truly be replaced?

And, man, what did we ever do to you? We were just minding our own business, playing together in the front yard while the neighbor kids sang along and danced. Then we took a little break for dinner - I went in the house and she stayed in her case propped against the wall of our garage, in the shade...in the safe cool shade. And you, sometime later when I was inside eating with my family or giving my kids a bath, before I closed the garage door and locked her up tight for the night, crept out of the shadows and kidnapped her. Jerk. Big fat jerk. Big fat probably Alvarez playing jerk.

OK, wait a minute, I didn't mean to call you that. I'm sure you had your reasons for doing what you did. I just need to calm down I guess. Maybe you just wondered what it would be like to hold something so beautiful and run your fingers down her neck. I can't really blame you for that. Can I? Maybe you had an empty place you thought she could fill but, man, no matter what you tell yourself you've got to know deep down inside that she'll never truly be yours. She can't be. She's mine. Love like hers can't be stolen, it can only be begged for by professional rock stars like me and then given to us for free in exchange for publicity photos with her and a short personally written endorsement to be placed in advertisements.

So, come to your senses. Maybe I could talk to Yamaha for you and help you get a beauty of your own. What do you say? Can I have her back now?

Yours truly,
Shaun Groves