In the early morning, I like to take my dogs, Lucy and Rosco, down to the small park on the East River at the end of Grand St. It has a giant old smoke stack with a plaque on it which I've never read. I'm sure the place has a name, but I don't know it. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I can't read. There are a few trees, some picnic tables, and used condoms and dime bags all over the ground. It's a slice of heaven. Me and my dogs like to hang out on the giant rocks along the shoreline, looking for rats to chase. Like the man says, the best things in life are free.