My bottom is more often wet than it's dry, Use me, go fast, but don't expect me to fly. It's only water I like, and it's always been known, Your final clue is that I am a palindrome.

A couple, two of a kind, shoes, socks or scissors. A yellowish-green fruit with a big bottom. And the act of peeling that fruit with a knife.

I'm trod upon daily, yet you barely pay me heed. But, I think your feet will admit, I really am a need. Whether high up in the sky or just above the ground, be sure to sweep, mop, and keep me clean, as is the janitors creed.

There can be many colors on my head, Make it a swirl, frosting or with sprinkles instead, I'm always dressed to celebrate, Though I won't be around for long to wait, Peel my little jacket free, Then take a bite and savor me.

I show roads, cities, and places, but I am not the world. What am I?